My heart will never forget you. While I have three babies here with me, I think of and remember the two of you often as well. The two of you lived in my womb, but for far too short a time. The mere weeks should have been months which turned into years, but your life ended too soon.
I vividly remember the moment, for each of you, when I took a positive pregnancy test. I can also remember excitedly telling your daddy of your existence. The smile and joy on his face was priceless. I also remember the moments I saw you wiggle and squirm on that ultrasound screen. Or heard your tiny heart beating. What an amazing sound for a mama to hear! I am not sure what sound can really compare to that.
I also remember finding out, not too long after I learned that you were growing in my womb, that your tiny heart had stopped beating. Those are the moments I don’t like to remember, yet I do. It was in those moments that I realized I wouldn’t get to meet you. I wouldn’t get to watch you grow up. My time with you was unfairly cut short. And it was these moments that lead to grieving your loss and grieving the life that you would never have.
My dear babies, I did grieve for you. I cried. I hurt. And I asked so many questions. Those closest to us knew of the hurt and the loss, but I didn’t talk too openly about this hard time. Everyone grieves differently. Sometimes it’s more public, sometimes it’s more private. For me it was more private grief, but it was felt pain and grief nonetheless.
And still to this day, I may not talk about you often, but I haven’t forgotten you. Some parents who have lost their dear babies remember them on due dates or birthdays, but I have never done that. That doesn’t mean I have forgotten you. Honestly, keeping a day to remember would hurt too much. It would be too hard. It would bring back all of the pain and the hard emotions of your loss and none of the sweet joy of your life.
You are in my thoughts frequently. I think about the what if’s. What would our family look like if you were here with us. I think about if you would be another blonde haired girl like your sisters or maybe a boy to balance things out more for your daddy. I think about what kind of personality you might have added to our family too. These are things I wonder, but will never know.
Then I think of the why’s. Why was your life so short? Why did my body fail you? Why did I never get to meet you? Or hold you? Again, I wonder without answers.
I want you to know dear babies, that your life mattered. Although your life was far too short, it mattered. And I haven’t forgotten the weeks my womb was your home.
Sometimes I wish I could have just held you. Although it’s not possible and it wouldn’t have changed anything, it’s still a wish I have.
Then I remember I did hold you. My womb was the only home you ever knew. I held you close to my heart as you grew from when your life began until it also ended. While not in my arms, I did hold you close to me in your short weeks of life. You were part of me and that is why I will never forget you. I may not have ever held you physically in my arms. But I held you. And I will keep holding you, my sweet little babies.
I also hold tightly to the hope that one day I will see you and hold you. While not on this earth, one day I will get to hold you in a perfect place that is absent of the pain and grief of this world. My faith gives me this hope, and I hold tightly to that daily.
I love you now, and I always will.