The Darkest Days

October 17, 2014 (11 pm)

Dear Olivia,

I can’t believe it’s already been two weeks since we heard the devastating news about you.  Time is slipping from my grasp as the days just continue on without me.  I don’t think the time has done much to dull the pain though.  In fact, as the permanence of the situation really sets in, I find myself sadder.  I still think about you most of every day. I still cry for you multiple times a day. I wonder if I will ever be the same without you.

I wish I could hope hard enough and then wake up to find this is all a bad dream. That you really are still growing in my belly. That you really will still come home with us in March.  That you really are the baby who will complete our family.

Nana and Lily and I went to the mall to get warm clothes for Lily last weekend.  I ate a pretzel and remembered that I’d had one a week before I found out you were gone. I sat in the play area while Lily played.  My eyes immediately found the newborn nearby. An acquaintance walked by and gave me a sad look. She asked how I was and I immediately cried.  She sat with me and stroked my hair. Mommies understand the pain of losing a child even if they just get to imagine it.  Next we went into a few stores for clothes.  I had no idea what that would do to me.  In Gymboree, I glanced at a rack of newborn clothes.  Only two weeks earlier I had been shopping there for you. A wave of despair struck hard and fast.  I told Nana I had to get out.  I stumbled out into the mall and just stood there crying.  Two ladies stopped to see if I was sick or needed help.  They offered to pray for me when I said I was ok. Lily came out and held me. The 7 year-old was comforting her broken mommy.

Nana tried to help me feel better and took me to Lake Erie earlier this week.  Unfortunately I was still miserable.  I had so much time to think about you and miss you.  I sat in a restaurant and didn’t even make it to ordering my food before I started to cry and we had to leave.  We sat in the car while I let loose all the tears and frustration and agony I feel.  

It was then that I really knew I needed to talk to someone who could help me deal with losing you. Nana called the Chaplain to get information about a grief counselor and I also asked her to find out where you were.  I am still your mommy and I had been worrying about your travels to and from Children’s Hospital for a week.  

Hours later, Daddy called to tell me the chaplain contacted him to say you were ready to come home.  Daddy promised to pick you up the next day and to wait to see your pictures until we were together.

I felt some peace about having you come home to us.  At least now we could watch over you like parents should.  Daddy and I anxiously looked through the bag from the hospital. You were there along with some papers. It felt nice to see your name there in print on the documents even if they were a cremation certificate and pathology order. 

Then I came to the envelope of pictures. I have to admit, I was excited to see the pictures of you. I have been carefully studying the ones we took, and I wanted to see new pictures of you. I pulled out the first picture and immediately knew it wasn’t you. I was so disappointed.  Daddy called right away to get things fixed. We will be picking up your pictures tomorrow and I am again anxiously anticipating seeing them. I hope there will be some of you with your hat, blanket, and maybe even your bear you got at the hospital.  I’ve examined each of those items for evidence that you actually touched them.  Hopefully the pictures will prove that you did.   

October happens to be Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month with October 15th set aside as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  What a coincidence that it is also your birth month.  I knew that we would need to honor you and the other four babies we’ve lost in pregnancy on that day by taking part in the Wave of Light candle lighting event.  Mommy and Daddy chose your candle the day after we found out you were gone.  It is a cranberry candle, and we thought it would represent the fall and your birthday well.  That night we lit five candles.  Five.  How I wish it could have been zero.  Or even just four.     

We found out yesterday that your body was perfect. Nothing was wrong.  You were perfect and yet you are still gone.  I have to admit that is really hard for me to swallow.  If nothing was wrong with you, then why? The placenta and infection tests were fine too. We are still waiting for the chromosome test. I guess I am just expecting them to all come out fine and for us to have no answers.  

Despite feeling like we probably won’t get any answers about what happened, Daddy and I have decided to do tests on ourselves to see if we can get answers.  I am worried that we will find out something is wrong that we could have been treating during my pregnancy with you.  If we do, please forgive me.  I will forever wish we would have known in time to help you.  You are the reason we will do these tests, though.  If we learn something that allows us to someday have another baby, you will be the one who made it possible.  At the same time, I’m afraid we won’t find out anything.  Without answers and possible treatments, how will we ever have the courage to risk our hearts to pregnancy again?

The last two days I have tried to start acting more normal for Lily and Ella.  Yesterday was the first day I went to a public place where I actually knew people.  We had parent teacher conferences for your big sisters and then went to the community Halloween celebration. Lily performed a dance as a Coraline doll.  Ella went trunk or treating and decorated a pumpkin. I went through the motions of being a good mother to them.  I have to admit though that my mind spent most of its time on you.  I saw pregnant mothers and thought of you. I saw infants and longed for you. When I saw people I know and who knew about you, I hid my face.  

Tonight I forced myself to go with Daddy and your sisters to dance. I have avoided that place too. We were there for a little more than two hours and I found myself crying twice during that time. There, too, I was surrounded by other mothers who made me jealous.  Tiny babies, pregnant bellies.  A mother waving around her ultrasound pictures.  She must have been just about as pregnant as I would have been tonight. Why do they get to keep their babies? Why do we have to fall into the 1% who lose their baby after the first trimester? Other mommies who knew about you tried to comfort me.  They held me and wiped my tears. My friend Kara said she was proud of me for even coming to dance. She thought I was strong for sharing your candle and the other four on Facebook.  She assured me that all my feelings were ok and normal and that I was allowed to just feel them.

Olivia, I carried you every day of your life, and I will love you every day of mine.

Love,

Mommy