What to title this one..?

A few nights ago, we were sitting at the hospital’s Labor & Delivery unit with my sister in law. We were just sure it was time, but 4 hours later, we were all headed home. Even at 5 in the morning, I was numb. I’m pretty sure that for the first time since this all happened, that Eric & I were actually on the same page. 

It all became real for us, as we sat there and realized that it wouldn’t be us in her shoes come February. It was a feeling that will never go away–emptiness. Some days I do just fine. I cry a little bit, think about our baby for a while, then go on about my day. Today, on the other hand, wasn’t as easy. I sat here, bawling my eyes out, telling myself that I would never understand why this happened. I texted Eric, who is at work: “Baby please hurry home. I can’t stand this. I’m trying to keep myself occupied but it hurts so much. My baby should be here safe inside of me. Not gone. What good is it doing to not have her here? It’s not doing anything but causing me the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I’m probably losing my mind.” I know he’s worried about me now. I can only imagine how bad he wants to come home RIGHT now. He asked if there was anything he could do from work, which in return, I told him no. Simply put.

No. Nothing will ever make it right. Nothing will ever take away this pain. I feel so stupid for being so upset about this. I was only 6 weeks along. But then I think of how happy I was to finally become a mother. How ready I was for this baby. How I couldn’t wait to hold him/her in my arms and shower them in kisses during their first moments in the world. Now I can’t. 

My sister told me the other day that it was for the best. No. It wasn’t. It was one of the worst things I can ever imagine. Of course, this is the same person who also told me a few days after it happened on my 1 year wedding anniversary that I’m “not a mother” and that I don’t know what it feels like (she has a 3 year old, my boogerbear). Thanks for the reminder, which ended up kicking me down and helped ruin my day.

I understand that people who have never experienced it really don’t know what it feels like… But to literally not care, or give insensitive advice? I think that’s just being selfish. 

My mother-in-law suggested that I stop smoking (I picked up the habit again after miscarrying). I felt it was better to do that instead of shooting someone. I figured she was about to give me a lecture when she informed me that once I stop “my body will pure enough to actually carry a baby next time”. Cigarettes did not kill my child. 

I’m angry, upset, depressed, a multitude of emotions. I just want everything back to normal, with my baby safely inside of me. Is that too much to ask?

XOXO–Emily

Missing you.

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.

XOXOXO–Emily

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.