I have accepted and embraced what we endured after losing our baby. I have dug deep into my soul these past 3 months to uncover many insecurities, triggers, and beliefs that have been more detrimental than good for me. I have practised immense amounts of self-care. I’ve gotten clear on what matters and where I want to be headed. I’ve released what no longer serves me with the intention of moving forward as the “new” me. It’s been a transformational period brought on by grief and despair.
It’s so true what they say: your life becomes divided by the loss of a child. There’s before the loss and after the loss.
Immediately following the loss, life seems unbearable. You feel alone and broken beyond repair. As you face each day thereafter, it slowly gets easier. The pieces of your broken heart – even if they are ever so tiny – begin to meld back together. You pick yourself up. You learn to cope. You take a step forward, but you never forget what happened and how it’s affected you.
Even though we are just about to do another embryo transfer, I still think about our Emme. I think about what it would be like if I was 22 weeks pregnant, preparing for the arrival of our baby girl in 4 months. I think about how my life would be different, how I would feel and where I would be at.
Lately, I’ve been struggling with people telling me, “Just let it go and move on“. (Ahem…Mom!)
Yesterday, Yahoo Parenting featured the article, I will always mourn that baby, written by Jaime Primak Sullivan.
Jaime writes, “I wanted to scream at her that the loss of one child is not redeemed by others at home — that the way a mother’s heart works is like having individual hearts for each child, and when one is broken, it cannot be made whole by another. It must heal on its own.”
This is exactly how I feel right now. I want to acknowledge my child. I want to express the emotions associated with losing our child freely without a sense of judgement. Our hearts are healing, not healed.
Another cycle, another transfer, another baby (or twins!) does not mean that we have overcome our pregnancy loss. We continue living after the loss, but we will never ignore or pretend it didn’t happen. Our little girl deserves more honour than that.
In time, I hope to transition from healing to healed, but I’m not even sure if that actually happens. The triggers might not affect me as much, but there always be a piece of me that is missing from when our little girl was taken from us.
Even though she’s not with us, Emme will always be a part of our lives. She’s our first child. She’s irreplaceable.