I’ve been thinking about writing this blog for a while now but I have been putting it off because writing it will make me sad. I warn you now, it’s a sad one.
In one of my previous posts I talked about an episode of Private Practice involving a baby. I don’t want to relive that episode so you’ll have to read that post if you want details, but I remember talking about how I cried so much I wanted to vomit. It has to be every parents worst nightmare, losing a child. I was a nervous wreck during my pregnancy and I had a few glitches along the way that only made me worry more. I remember thinking I was out of the woods once I got through labor and delivery, then we had a scare with “A” and I realized that the stress and worry would only get worse now that he was out of my body.
I recently saw a blog on a Facebook friends page that said ‘worst days of my life’ and I clicked on it. I almost wish I hadn’t because it broke my heart into a million little pieces. The blog was written by a woman who happened to live in the place where I grew up and still call home. She was 34 weeks pregnant when she lost her baby. She had just left the doctor’s office after hearing her daughter’s heartbeat and a few hours later she was back, complaining of cramps and pain. There was no longer a heartbeat. Her placenta had detached. Her baby had died. She delivered her stillborn baby, her daughter, and then held her, only to let her go.
How do you get over something like that? Seriously? Having a miscarriage in the early weeks of your pregnancy is hard enough, but it is another thing to be at the stage where you are feeling kicks and hiccups, hearing heartbeats, singing songs and literally counting mere days until your baby’s arrival. You might as well have ripped this woman’s heart out of her chest when the baby came out because my guess is she will never be the same. Time may heal but even so, she’ll hold a special place in her heart for that child for the rest of her life, even if she has 14 kids.
I remember going to the hospital once when pregnant on A just to hear his heartbeat because too long a time (in my mind) had passed since I felt him move. I almost didn’t go because I was afraid I would annoy the nurse. I didn’t want her to think I was a paranoid first time mom. Better safe than sorry was (and is) my motto. Even moreso now.
I find myself, as a mother, drawn to this blog. She is a complete stranger yet I feel for her as if she were a friend. I receive a notification whenever she writes a new post and when I see it in my email I can’t just click on it to open and read it right away. I have to wait and go back to it. I have to mentally prepare myself for what I am about to read because I know, more than likely, I will cry. I will put myself in her shoes as she lives through this nightmare. The big difference is I can press the small x button at the top of my screen and walk away from my computer and the nightmare ends for me. She’s not so lucky.
As I read her blog I can’t help but say a silent prayer that I never have to go through that. I also feel thankful. Thankful that I have a sweet, beautiful, healthy almost 2 year old. I also feel guilty. Guilty because I complain over things that, in the large scheme of things, don’t matter. Just this morning I got annoyed that A woke up an hour earlier than usual. I am sure this woman would want to give me a well deserved slap across the face if she heard that. She’d give anything for her child to have woken up and here I am complaining that I lost an hour sleep.
I can’t promise that I will stop complaining (I am human after all) but I will try my best not to sweat the small stuff, as they say. So if A wakes up early again tomorrow I will try to remind myself when I look at the clock that I didn’t lose an hour, I gained one.
For those interested in reading the blog I mentioned above, the link is:
Hugs & Smiles,