On a cool October day in 2008, the doctor was unable to find my baby boy’s heartbeat during a routine check-up. Learning that I had lost my baby at 13 weeks was one of the most traumatic moments of my life. We had decided to try to miscarry at home, in the comfort of my bed but it was not meant to be. I ended up in the back of an ambulance, on the way to the ER where I would spend the night until I could get into an Operating Room. The cold hospital room where I was my losing my baby felt even colder due to the deafening silence that seemed to envelope me and my husband, like a thick fog. When I think of that day, it feels like I wasn’t fully present. Like something in me broke and freed me so I could be in another state of consciousness where pain wasn’t as raw.
The second hardest thing I had to do was to leave the hospital with empty arms. My arms ached to hold and cuddle him. Leaving my baby behind was not part of the plan. Needless to say, the clear and precise birthing plan I had spent hours preparing went out the window! We were in uncharted territory. How do you parent a child you love so much without being able to touch, hold or talk to them? He still needed me to be strong and well to keep his memory alive. This way of thinking was instrumental in my grief journey. I came to understand that I will never ‘get over’ the grief that I feel, and that is ok with me. Grief was now stitched into the fabric of my life. It was what was holding me together and was, at a turtle’s pace, mending my broken heart.
Fifteen years have now passed and I feel that my baby will always live on in my heart and my love for him is as strong and pure as ever. My heart is scarred but it is also filled with beauty and gratitude and I can’t wait to see what new adventures and memories life will bring us as we go on living and remembering. I have a heart full of love for Nate and for his living sisters.
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