I knew as I awakened in the dark silence of the night that the baby was gone. I could feel my body physically rejecting its presence, but the ache in my heart at the confirmation that my fear this baby would be lost too, would last long past the physical pains and discomforts.
I cried silent tears in the night at what was lost. I'd have to tell my daughters that we lost another baby again. They would be sad in the moment, but they wouldn't mourn the baby's loss on the monumental dates ahead that would have marked the baby's growth. They'd never think of April as the month we would have learned if it was a boy or girl or that in August it would have been the baby’s birth date. The knowledge of those moments, as well as this one, the date the baby's short existence ended, are a burden a mother alone carries.
I will go about my days as if nothing is amiss while I quietly mourn what was not meant to be. Some will know and understand my loss while others may wonder how I can miss someone I never met. But a mother begins to sense and connect with her baby shortly after conception. I knew you, my baby, though I never saw your face, and it was only for a few short months. I imagined our future together that will now never be more than a lost dream. I will join the ranks of those women that mourn babies they never got to meet.
Though there may be more babies that follow- a rainbow baby they call it- for me to love, a mother never forgets the babies she has lost. I will often wonder what you would have been like. How you would have fit into the dynamics of our family and the relationship you would have had with your siblings? Few will ever even know of your existence but know your short little time with me left a lasting impression on me, and I will never forget you, my sweet angel baby that was never meant to be a part of this world.
Check out my recent essay on post partum depression here.
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