Here I sit, on the cusp of yet another year without my third baby, my little Sophia Anne, and I'm wondering what it would be like with yet another voice to add to our already chaotic life. Would she have thrown a fit out of hunger and exhaustion like Megan did tonight? Would she have been trying to madly memorize all 44 presidents before dinner like Erin was? Would she be singing Puff The Magic Dragon at the absolute top of her lungs like Evan is? What would a little, blond 4-year-old add to our family? I'll never know. And here I am, four years away from the day that shattered my soul in ways I still cannot describe, and I need to be honest. The truth is that the sorrow that nearly killed me 4 years ago now finds itself next to something else in my heart. There is a glimmer there that has been growing steadily with time--the glimmer that other Babylost Mamas had told me about 4 years ago, but I didn't believe that it could ever really be true. It is the glimmer of the fact that happiness is possible without her. As slowly and grudgingly as I have allowed it to come on, there it is. Before I go further, I want to be very clear here--time does NOT heal. It simply doesn't. NOTHING will heal the piece of my heart that is broken forever. Nothing. But time allows a chance for that glimmer to grow a little...to expand into the areas of your heart that are left after it has been irreparably shattered. And that is what is happening to me right now.
So here I sit--and my plate is undeniably full of sadness right now, with my friend's impending death corresponding so closely with my lost one's birthday--focusing on what Sophie has brought into my life. She has taught me patience, compassion, kindness, and empathy in a way that no living baby ever could. She has made me a voice for other Babylost Mamas as I work to spread the word on how to assist someone going through such loss. She has given Chris and I the deep deep down, unbreakable understanding that our marriage, truly, can survive anything. And these are all gifts I could never have ever gotten from someone else.
Of course I'm writing this with the full understanding that at least one person reading this is only a week away from her own shattered dream...and I don't want to do or say anything that could upset her. I remember how angry I got when people told me how much better things got over time (Write that down, people, don't EVER tell a Babylost Mama that things will get better with time.... Just don't.) I remember thinking that I desperately wanted to transport myself to the future where I was promised this land of less pain, but I also desperately wanted to stop time so that I could always be closer to her. I wanted to never forget the feeling of her moving around inside me, the beautiful swell of my belly, the glow of my pregnancy smile...those things were erased with time, you see, and that was something I could not imagine being without. So I don't want to write about the happiness that is "possible with time" without also saying I know what it is like to be so, so, so very conflicted and angry with time. I know what you are feeling, dear friend, and I recognize that I am currently writing with the ability to put myself back there, in your shoes, or not. And I am choosing not to--something you simply don't have the ability to do right now. I recognize that and I also recognize it can cause anger and resentment. I'm so very sorry....
Now, Sophia, as your tree twinkles with lights outside my window, I want you to know, my dear baby girl, how very deeply you are missed and loved. I continue to wonder how I have survived 4 years of being without you, but you have helped make our family whole, and for that, I will always be grateful.