Shortly after my D&C, Austin and I named the baby we never got to meet. We also both took the time to write her a letter. This got me going on all of this. Here is my letter. Some of it is things you’ve heard before, some is a more intimate. Thank you for reading.
As always, if you want to contribute to the blog, or need someone to talk to, please email me. Jerricababb@gmail.com. I’m here for you.
Dear Patience,
Your dad wrote you the perfect letter last night, and though there is no way I can articulate what I’m feeling as well as he did, I know this will be cathartic for me as well. Let me start with this: I was so excited and terrified to be your mother. I know we lost you very early so there wasn’t much to you yet, but I couldn’t keep my hands from rubbing on my belly and imagining you growing in there. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe enough. That was my only job until you came into this crazy world. I know the doctors and blogs and everyone say that “these things just happen.” But try telling that to a mother that just lost her baby. I can’t stop thinking about every little thing I might have done that resulted in us losing you. Was I working too much? Did I move a table wrong? Are the crazies right about any caffeine being bad? I tried to keep you safe, and I’m sorry I failed you in that.
I wanted to see you grow up. I could see it all in my head: your first smile, first steps, first fall, first day of school. There are so many things in this world that are terrifying and difficult, but I wanted to help make those easier on you. Life is not easy. Your father and I have been through so much, both alone and together. We were going to help you to make the right decisions and help you when even the right ones didn’t work out. We were going to laugh when you ignored us anyway and learned the hard way. You were supposed to be a bratty teenager someday. I didn’t make it easy on my parents, so I never expected us to have an easy go of this.
I took your father for a few shocks when I decided I wanted to try for a baby. The first time I asked him if he’d thought about it, his response was a solid, firm “no.” That made me feel awesome, let me tell you. But he thought about it and by the next morning, he was excited about trying. I stopped my birth control that morning and we didn’t expect for you to happen so quickly. From our figuring, we were pregnant about 2 weeks after I stopped taking my pills. I never thought it’d be that simple. And I kept second guessing myself about the signs until I took the tests. I took the first one on March 27th and still thought it was a fluke (apparently super sore breasts, feeling nauseous, and wanting to stab your dad for drinking whiskey was normal). On March 29th, I took my second test, set it on the counter, and went back to bed. When we finally got moving that morning, I saw that it was two solid pink lines. I was giddy and in shock at the same time. I wasn’t sure how to tell Austin though. I knew we agreed to try, but would he be happy that it happened so quickly?
We went out to breakfast that morning and then came home and lounged around. Your dad still had a fresh tattoo at that point so he kept staring at it and then he asked when my next appointment was for a new one. I kind of froze for a second and replied with, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it…” Austin’s response, since he knew the meaning for the tattoo was difficult for me, was, “I’ll be here with hugs and support however you need.” I looked at him and said, “that’s not the reason…” I was still in shock about the positive test and didn’t think I could say it out loud, so I waited for him to get it. Once he did, his eyes went huge and “you’re pregnant?!” All I could do was giggle. There was a lot of kissing and excitement and nervousness from both of us. From the first second we knew about you, we were so thrilled to meet you.
Immediately we started talking about our future and yours. Your dad and I have always been good at communicating our feelings to each other and being close. But this was a new ballpark. We were both ecstatic. He kept touching my lower stomach and you were our “crazy science.” We imagined so much for you.
While I’m sad and angry about losing you before I was ready, I do take solace in the fact that you were never cold, hungry, or unloved. You never learned of the weird place our world is in right now. You never came home from school crying because middle school kids are jerks. You were innocent and perfect and ours.
I’m angry about losing you. I’m angry that I’m expected to live my life like you never happened. I’m angry that people get uncomfortable talking about losing their babies. I’m angry that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in a miscarriage, but you don’t find out about that statistic until you’re one of them. I’m angry that your dad is hurting and I don’t know how to fix it.
Your dad is phenomenal. He would have been amazing with you. He’s sarcastic and smart and informed and always searching for new information. Catch him on a night when he doesn’t come to bed and usually a love letter is written to me, a new recipe or menu is finished, and he’s learned all about Turkey 600 years ago. When I met him, he was fresh out of the Army and a sarcastic, jaded, arrogant, gorgeous dork. There was something about him that I just had to figure out, and while I haven’t figured it out yet, I’ve had so much fun trying. He’s always keeping me on my toes and he would have done the same for you. He had so many things to teach you and I’m sorry you both don’t get to experience that. But for the brief time you were with us, Patience, I know you could feel his unending love for you. That’s what he does, he’s an amazing man with a huge heart, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
I hate that we lost you too soon, but you will always be with us. Not an hour goes by where I’m not thinking of you and I don’t see that ever changing. You’re forever in our hearts and I hope you don’t mind if I still talk to you sometimes. I love you, peanut.
Your Mom
When You're Not Sure What To Say 