I’m trying to do better today. Being surrounded by pregnancy really makes me miss our little one. I would be 10 weeks on Monday. I feel like I’m a constant Debbie Downer with everyone, like they’re all getting tired of hearing about Baby Larsen. I don’t care. I will never get tired of talking about him (I’m pretty sure it was a boy). In my dreams, I see a baby boy, dark haired and dark eyed–a spitting image of his daddy. That’s what I wanted to give my husband. He wants children just as much as I do, and now that our baby is gone, we feel the void in our hearts. I just wish I could’ve gotten one sonogram photo. Just one. Now I’ll never know what he would’ve looked like, even at 7 weeks in utero. As I sat there and watched my sister-in-law prepare the baby’s nursery today, I thought of how I would look at 9 months pregnant, rushing around to get everything prepared and put together before our baby’s arrival. I thought of how happy Eric and I would be to be impatiently waiting for our baby to come into the world with open arms. I would’ve cried watching her today, but I just couldn’t. My eyes have cried so much that they just can’t anymore. The tears seem to only flow at night, right before bed. Maybe it’s because Eric would always kiss my belly goodnight, then me. We would cuddle up afterwards, always with his hand gently cradling my abdomen. My uterus would spasm at time, and I couldn’t wait to be far enough along to feel the baby kick and squirm inside of me.
Folks, today is one of those days for me. One of those days where I sit and imagine and daydream what my life would be like, even now, if I still had my baby. I asked Eric last night, “What’s the one thing you were looking forward to the most?” His response made my eyes swell with tears. “Seeing and holding him for the first time.” I could tell by the look on his face when he said it that he was hurting too. Deep down under his strong exterior, is a man that hurts for the child he never got to meet. He misses the baby just as much as I do, even if he doesn’t know how to show it.
I know that one of these days I’ll be fine again. Or maybe I’ll be “fine”. Who knows? Will there ever be a day that you just get over something like this? Even if there is, I’ll probably never find that day.
P.S. I found this song the other day, and let me forewarn you: If you decide to listen to it, you’re gonna need tissues. It makes me sad, yet happy at the same time.