You should be here

My dear Lily,

I wish you were here. The whole family got together the Sunday before last at the B&B where we house and dog-sit. All the aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, and your great-grandmother were there. That weekend was really tough for me. I missed you more than I had for a while. 

I told you all about your cousin, Daniel, my first cousin who was born four months after me. We grew up as best buddies and I couldn't have been more excited that we were going to have a boy and girl, three months apart. You and Owen, two peas in a pod. You two were gonna grow up together and spend the months looking forward to the next time you'd see your buddy. You were gonna watch each other's backs. You were gonna enjoy each other's company as much as Daniel and I did. 

I met 6-month old Owen that weekend for the first time. You would be 3 months old now. You would be smiling now. It was so hard to meet him, little girl. I tried so hard, I promise you I did. But, I was overwhelmed with missing you. Somehow seeing Owen made the loss of you all the more real. Seeing a real, live baby. Not a lifeless baby like you were when I held you. It was especially hard, knowing you are his cousin, knowing you should have been there meeting him. I had looked forward to the time so much. 

I couldn't help feeling jealous, as I watched Owen's mommy hold him, kissing his forehead, feeding him his bottle. I quietly watched her as Owen fell fast asleep in her arms. I studied her as I watched her be his mother. And the ache inside me was there like never before. Never before have I wanted to be a mother so badly. 

Owen was the center of attention and you weren't mentioned once. It's like people have already forgotten about you. Like I'm not gonna remember you if people don't bring you up. I wish people would understand that I think of you and miss you no matter who says what. It just makes me miss you more when people act like you never were.

I didn't hold Owen for two days. I was jealous, I was hurting, I was angry, I was heartbroken. On that Sunday afternoon, he was napping when no one else was around. And I watched him. I watched him sleep, turning his head from side to side, breathing deeply, wiggling his arms around. I rubbed his back and I was so in love with this little boy. I can only imagine how much love I would have felt for you, my own child. I still feel the love. Owen is so precious, red hair, blue eyes. You would have been so cute in pictures together.

Daniel makes Owen laugh. He plays peek-a-boo with him and I look on as Owen waits in anticipation, knowing his daddy's face will be appearing any moment. And it grips my heart. I will never hear your giggle. I will never know how it might have sounded. 

On Monday, I finally held Owen. I knew you'd want me to. All I could think of when I held him was how much I loved him. How much I adored this little boy, who was a miniature Daniel. How could I not adore his son? It made me feel connected to you. It was okay. I was scared, but it was fine. I kissed his cheeks and held him close. 

Daniel was really dear about it too. He could tell it was hard for me and he was really sensitive about it. He understood. We went to the cemetery, just me and him, and visited you. We talked about you. We missed you. He wishes you were here too. I'm glad he has Owen...it's helping him grow up and mature.

Holding Owen was healing. It was beautiful. I just wish I could see him more often. I wish you two could have played together. From now on, as I watch Owen grow up, I will always know I should have a daughter the same age. I will wonder what you might look like, what you might enjoy, how you and Owen would love playing. And I'll miss you forever.

Love, Mommy

Daniel and I when we were kids

Daniel and I when I was pregnant with Lily

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Oh, the irony

I used to spend my Tuesday evenings at LifeCare Pregnancy Center in Raleigh. It was routine...all day, we would look forward to going to see all our friends at class. Then, we would get Papa John's for dinner (at this point, they were having a special deal each week.) Then, off to LifeCare we would go. We met our dear friend Angela there. Now, I see Angela somewhere else. I see her amongst a group of men and women who have lost their children...at ParentCare, an infant loss support group. 


We went from a place that is all about life to a place that is all about death. And she did the opposite. Angela lost her daughter, Nala, in October 2008, due to an incompetent cervix. Then, on Easter Sunday this year, she gave birth to her healthy baby boy, Caiden. Her precious rainbow baby..born on Easter Sunday. What a special day to be born. And you know what...I couldn't be more happy for her. 


I've had a hard time with feeling bitter and jealous of women that have completely healthy babies, especially when I feel they take it for granted. But, I don't feel that way about Angela. I am so thankful she has her rainbow baby. I am so happy to hear of any woman have her rainbow baby. 


A couple of weeks ago, I held a baby for the first time since I held Lily. It was Caiden. It might have something to do with the fact that he's a boy, and also just how excited I am for Angela, but it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Angela knew what it would be like for me, having been through it herself, so it didn't feel awkward at all. She asked me if I wanted to hold him, not trying to force him in my arms. Mom did okay too...we were both nervous about how it would feel. She fed Caiden his bottle and held him for hours, thoroughly enjoying herself. I hope she gets to be a grandmother to a living child soon. She doesn't want anything else more.


It's a joke between Angela, my mom, and I that we are his "bonus grandma" and 'bonus auntie." We couldn't be more pleased to have those roles in his life. :)


The afternoon was spent catching up with Angela, talking openly about Lily and both of our experiences with losing our daughters, as well as what being pregnant was like after losing Nala. I held Caiden and admired his sweet little body. He fell right asleep in my arms, like he was totally comfortable with me...even though I felt quite tense at first. His little hand grasped firmly onto my finger. I thought of Lily and how she never got to do that. I pictured her tiny little fingers and toes. And the pain was mixed with joy. Pain because I never got to experience Lily like that...joy because of the hope I hold onto that one day I will have my own rainbow baby...that baby I will get to bring home and love on, snuggle with, and watch grow up. 


It felt so strange holding him, hearing him breathe, feeling his warmth, looking into his eyes, and feeling his little hand clutching tightly. It haunts me sometimes that I never knew Lily in that way. That's one of the hardest things for me...that I never saw her or held her with life within her. When I held her, she was already waiting for me in the Kingdom...and there she will wait.

holding a baby for the first time since Lily

the "bonus grandma"

Angela, Caiden and I

proud mommy with her precious rainbow baby

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