While I was pregnant with Calvin, I looked forward to all of the holidays I would get to spend with him in my belly – his first of almost every major holiday with me and Louie. I found out I was pregnant on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and I was so excited about how so many of the major holidays would span my pregnancy: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Day, Valentines Day, my birthday, Easter, Mothers Day, Fathers Day, the 4th of July, Louie’s Birthday….
Yesterday was difficult, because it reminded us of all the things we were looking forward to doing with our baby.
As we cried together, Louie told me that he wanted to go egg hunting with Calvin. It seems like such a small act – to go hunting for Easter eggs with someone – but not when it’s lost to you. Things like that… things like changing his diaper or swabbing his umbilical cord with alcohol or waking up in the middle of the night to feed him… feeling his tiny hand wrap around my finger… hearing his voice, his cries, his coos, his giggles… We were just beginning to feel him move when I had my miscarriage.
Sometimes, it seems like time makes it harder, not easier.
With each passing day, I feel further removed from my pregnancy. It’s been over two weeks since I stopped producing milk, and as painful as it was – both physically and emotionally – to have my body wanting to feed my son, it made me feel more connected to him. It made me feel like a mother.
With each holiday, with each new experience, with each thing we do that we would not have done if we were still pregnant, if we had our baby, our hearts are newly broken.