I never thought that I would be in this position, a position that too many mothers find themselves in. Instead of a birth announcement, I drafted a thank-you letter for the paper. Instead of writing your milestones in a baby book, I am filing away test results and stillbirth paperwork. Instead of caring for you, I am gazing at an ur...n and feeling so empty knowing that all I have are memories of a life that was stolen before birth. Instead of wrapping you in your blankie, I am hugging it and hoping to get a small scent of you. I have to remind myself each day that this is not a dream. This is my life now, a life where I am the mother of two angels.
When we lost Ricky, we were devastated. We found out that there was no heartbeat on Valentine’s Day at 9 weeks. It felt like the wind was knocked out of me when those words were spoken “I’m so sorry”. I mourned, cried and got angry but I didn’t fully process our loss at the time. Not that I wanted to ignore our loss but I kept thinking to myself that it could have been worse. I was guilty of feeling like my loss was not as devastating as others. I now know that is not true. When Cristina was in the hospital with us, she asked if we had named our first angel. We told her that we did not and it made me sad to say that. It was almost a sign and we decided to name our first angel Ricky, which was the name Brynly had picked out for you. I was excited to tell her and when I did, she said “I thought it was Roger”. That is how your angel brother came to be named Ricky Roger. I was surprised at how naming him felt like a completion to that chapter and it allowed me to finally acknowledge him the way I should have years ago.
Tomorrow, it will be one month from when we heard those words yet again. I didn’t believe it. How could this be? The night before, we were all in the living room watching you wiggle around in my belly. You were so active, so alive. Even Lydon got to feel you move around and, thankfully, I took a picture. We were so happy and excited for the next chapter of our life. I went to bed that night thinking about how we were going to meet you in about a week. My heart was so happy. My precious baby, this is not how I thought it would be.
At work the next day, Mommy was busy and you were quiet as usual while I was walking around. At one point, I sat down to chart and something didn’t seem right. You were still quiet. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach but I tried to remain calm. I tried and tried to get a heartbeat but there was nothing but static. Before I went over to OB, I knew there was something wrong but I didn’t want to listen to my heart. I imagined myself walking over there, having them find your heartbeat right away, telling me you looked great and going home for the day. When I saw your precious profile on the ultrasound with your silent heart, my heart screamed for me to listen. If I just ignored it, it wouldn’t be true. If I just curled up and ignored everything else, my baby would be fine. When your Daddy showed up with the indescribable pain in his eyes, I knew that the truth could no longer be ignored.
I drifted in and out of sleep that night, dreaming of you and waking to a nightmare. My dreams for you faded away and were replaced with a pain no parent should bear. When I gazed upon your beautiful face, you looked so peaceful as if you knew how loved you are. Your Gigi said that when your Daddy carried you back to our room in the white scrubs he was wearing; it was as if an angel was carrying you. In the face of tragedy, it is those small moments of peace that carry you through. Knowing that you are so loved brings me peace but I would give anything to hold you in my arms again even if just a moment. My love for you will never fade.
My precious angels, though we may not carry you in our arms, we will carry you in our hearts forever.
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