I apologize for the long post.
It’s been a tough month.
My husband and I knew we were pregnant around our birthdays last fall — just like with our first. We had plans to share the news over Christmas. It was perfect. I have the photos and the “promoted to big brother shirt” hanging in my boy’s closet. Nobody else has seen the shirt. Our boy Henry has outgrown it.
It hangs there today. Mocking me.
We lost the baby right after New Year’s. I was about three months along. It was hard.
The holidays have been a reminder of what we don’t have. As I write this, I can’t help but think how different it would be if I were still pregnant. Our baby would be here by now. There would be chasing of Henry and our pup, Sadie.
Yet, that no longer is a reality. We found Sadie’s body… two weeks ago, is it? She drowned. Unbearable. Sadie was so much to our family, and she was my companion for hours as we waited for my husband Tim to come home from work. From the moment Henry arrived from the hospital, she always slept by his side. I was anxious to see how she’d take on another baby friend. Who would she sleep by? Would they play nice with her? It crushes me to think of how alone Sadie must have felt in her day or days without us. She probably missed that boy who would often give her crackers and hot dogs. She didn’t deserve to be alone. I feel like I’ve failed her.
At the same time, we’ve been trying to get pregnant again. Taking ovulation tests and peeing in cups is annoyingly second nature. We recently met with our doctor to discuss options, and we’ve started some things up. Should we have started sooner? Wait? When will it happen? Can it happen?
Our doctor says these things happen, and I agree. I talked about it with a family friend today. She’s one of the handful of people who know.
Still, I hate my body. I know I shouldn’t, but I hate it so much. I hate it for not giving me the baby we wanted. I hate it for not bouncing back to its original state, like when I had with my first-born. I weigh the same, but things aren’t the same. I just feel like my body, like so many of us moms know, is not mine.
It makes me sad to think of what might have been. I see so many of my friends sharing their good news of pregnancies and babies. I am thoroughly happy for them. Truly.
I know that for many of them, they too struggled to conceive or lost a child.
So many losses. The heartache. The tears. How sad.
In honor of what would have been our child’s birth, I want to say this: You are not alone. No matter what struggle you face, you have the power to make good out of it. It doesn’t have to come today, but I challenge you to make it happen – one day.
It’s what’s pushed me to write a letter a day with One Letter Project. I’m writing to strangers this year. About 20 letters and packages today. It’s what’s pushed me to do charitable work with volunteering and fundraising for various charities.
Despite the bad, there is good.
If you don’t find the good, be the good.
— Praying for that rainbow 
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