August 24th, 2016. Your due date. If you are anything like your sister, you would be here a little early. We would finally be meeting you. And those fingers and toes, they would be perfect just like I imagined. And I would be kissing them like crazy.
I have been dreading this day, knowing the closer we got to your birth day, the pain of not ever getting to meet you would become more unbearable than each month before.
You should be here.
You should be taking your first breath.
You should be safely in our arms.
You should be meeting your big sister.
You should be filling the empty room in our home that now sits collecting dust since December.
I still cannot bring myself to go in, becoming paralyzed in fear if I even get near the door.
You brought us such joy in December, knowing you were finally on your way to join our family. Even if the joy we felt was for a short time, we will never forget and honor your life. Since December, I have cried tears of joy, but also tears of utter despair. I have touched my growing belly hoping this would all be a nightmare I would wake up from. And that bump, it would really be you still growing with strong life inside me.
Since December, I have fallen to my knees. I have been scooped off the floor by your amazing Daddy when I did not have the strength to stand on my own. I have cried in the strangest places at the strangest moments. I have written letters to you. I even sent one up to you with a white balloon that tried to fly away with the strong wind on a sandy beach. But your Daddy chased after it and a stranger even dove on top of it to make sure it got up to you. I have felt your presence in songs. I have seen you in a white feather the day we would have seen you for the first time. I have seen you in the lady bug that landed on your sister’s arm on my birthday. I have seen you in the clouds. I have seen you in the sun rising on the beach.
Since December, I have yearned for you every day, some days more than others, today being one. I have felt guilty and blamed myself for your loss. I have been able to take a huge step and finally give myself the grace and forgiveness needed after having surgery and seeing that horrible picture, knowing you never had a chance. I have been angry, so angry, that we might have saved you if symptoms and concerns had not been dismissed for so long. I have questioned my faith, experienced moments of renewal and compassion, and wake up each day with a courageous faith. I have wondered who you are and who you would be. I have felt calm and at peace knowing that my God and my faith will allow me to know you one day, and until then you are safe and surrounded by God’s love.
I wish you were here. My heart aches for you. My body yearns for you. I wish I could hear your grunts and sweets noises. I wish I could smell you. I wish I could feel you on my chest. I wish I could feel your little fingers squeeze mine. I wish we could give you a name.
All we have left of you here on Earth is the cross that bears your due date from your Daddy and sister, and the heart with two pink lines, hidden in the Christmas tree to surprise your Daddy that you were on your way. But you are always in my heart and forever a part of my soul and every breath I take. Happy birth day sweet one.
Guest post by Amy Dabbs