My Angel Baby
An open letter to the baby we never got to meet.
When we found out about you, I felt so woefully unprepared, but instinctually ready. Still in shock, your dad and I spent our nights talking about what your name would be, fantasizing what becoming parents would be like. We excitedly planned for our next adventure, loving you more with every minute.
You and I were connected, and I found reassurance in knowing I was solely responsible for keeping you safe.
Until I failed.
It happened fast, within a few hours, but time moved painfully slow.
The shock of loss was more intense than the shock of a positive test. The joy we had instantly turned to shame and grief.
I’d never experienced grief so physically. It hurt so deep in my chest, radiating down through my body, and sinking in my gut. I would have given the world, my last dollar, my anything to bring you back.
Even all these years later, I want you to know you aren’t forgotten. You are with us constantly, I see you in every flower, every beautiful sunset and especially in rainbows. I think about you often. I wonder who you would have been, what your favorite toy would have been, what your little quirks could have been, what kind of sleeper you would have been. I think about your brother, Ridge, did you get to meet him first? Did y’all get along? Would y’all have been best friends? With every milestone he reaches, I’m saddened by the memories and milestones I missed out on with you. Every year on your heavenly birthday, we make you a cake and celebrate the mark you had on our world for the short time you were in it.
For a long time, we kept you a secret. We grieved alone, silently. I felt guilty for not naming you. I felt ashamed of my body, of my inability. I believed that I was at fault, that I had done something wrong and caused you harm. With time, growth, and healing, I no longer feel that way. I refuse to feel shame about what happened, about you.
The world kept turning, but I was never the same. They say a mother’s grief will last a lifetime, and I believe that’s true. You are the one who first made me a mommy, and a part of me died with you. I love you now even more than I loved you then.
Happy Heavenly Birthday, my sweet angel baby.
