January 23, 2014 by CassieCravings
5 years ago today, my world stopped.
I was pregnant with my first child. I had yet to tell anyone. I wanted the announcement to be well laid out and perfect. I wanted the celebration of our baby to be spectacular. I knew for weeks, but kept it a secret. Completely engulfed in the soon-to-be and starry eyed at all things tiny and pink and blue I dreamed of my baby. My dreams soon stopped short.
5 years ago today, I lost my baby. It was the middle of the night. I didn’t wake anyone. I curled up in the dingy floor of our little bathroom and sobbed. Time didn’t mean much that night. I don’t know how many hours I leaned against that vanity feeling frightened and defeated.
I thought I knew what it was to have a broken heart until I lost my baby. The anguish is indescribable. The fight within oneself is brutal and bloody. I clung to God for comfort begging for peace and in the same breath would cry out, “Why did You let this happen?!”
With my body cold and aching from the floor, I finally pulled myself up. I showered. I would call the doctor in the morning. There was no point tonight. I crawled back into bed with my husband. He slept soundly, happily. I cursed myself for keeping the secret to myself.
I felt selfish and silly. I wanted everything to be perfect, but I just deprived our loved ones of celebrating our first child. Between sobs I choked back the guilt. Nothing could be done to change the past. But a vow was taken that night that we would celebrate and praise every moment that I carried my future children, whether it be a matter of weeks, months or full term.
That vow was hard to keep as I continued to have trouble carrying. There were 5 more precious souls that I carried for too short a time. We celebrated each one of those pregnancies as hard as we mourned them when they ended. There is one precious soul that is now approaching his 4th birthday. We celebrate him to the fullest, our precious son, our one and only.
Because of the loss 5 years ago, I hold my curly headed boy that much tighter and say “I love you” as many times as the day will allow.
To the first I carried,
I wish things could have been different. I’m sorry that they’re not. I ache for what could have been, my baby. I ache to hold you in my arms, to put to my breast. I ache to call you by name. I think of you often. I wonder about you and dream about you. I miss you.