Tomorrow...

Good morning! Today is finally Friday, which means we're closer to next week, when my husband once again falls on his week off, after this horribly long week of night shift! We're both looking forward to it. I was dreading this week, as he was doing this very shift when we lost our angel, (lost our baby? gained an angel?) and he hadn't had to do it since. It has gone by faster than I expected, which means 1) that I'm becoming more comfortable in my own company again (yippee!) and 2) that nothing is really as bad as I dread it will be.
Even the pain.
Of course, that first weekend, in the hospital, was worse. Worse than anyone can imagine. As were the first few days. Okay, maybe weeks. And everyday there are moments of profound loss, grief and horribleness. But, as the grief counsellor I talked to suggested, when I allow these feelings to naturally come, they also naturally go...
The hardest part, lately (because it changes often), is dealing with the idea of next year. Dealing with the due date, and all the events we were looking forward to celebrating as a family. I was due sometime between Jan. 31st and Feb 3rd, and they say most first pregnancies go past the due date, but we knew that Evangeline would be here by Valentine's Day, our own little cupid. (Indeed she is!) We looked forward to celebrating Easter as a family, our first mother's/father's day. Patrick's parents had wanted to rent a beach house on the coast of Delaware as his family did when he was younger. I envisioned laying out near the water, with our sweet little dark haired baby on a blanket, sleeping peacefully. And there'd be Thanksgiving, and we'd be thankful for her and all that she'd brought us in those first 9 months, and her first Halloween. She was going to be a ladybug. The costume was waiting for us at Véro's. And finally Christmas, she'd be almost a year old. Next year will be so difficult.
These are the things that hurt the most, not just losing her, but losing this chunk of what would have been, what should have been. Part of our own future is gone, with her. And it's not fair, but that's the way it is.
People like to say "you'll get over it", "you'll move on", "time heals all wounds", but it doesn't. Not this kind of wound. I don't want to move on, I want my baby. I don't want to forget about her, and put her in the past. She belongs in my future, not in the past. Moms like me, I imagine, are constantly struggling to keep their babies alive in their hearts now, not just in the past. One day, God willing, I will have more babies, more healthy, full term babies who will know my voice and call me "mommy". But this first baby, Evangeline, will be just as real to me as she is now, just as loved as the babies I hope to have. That's why it's so important when people tell me they'll remember her. It makes it easier for me, not to have to go around and remind everyone...

Yes, I lost my first baby. Her name was Evangeline. She would be just over a month old today. I love her and miss her everyday.