Strong As A Mother

After being married for only four and a half weeks, we found out that we were expecting our first child! We were beside ourselves because the first thing on our marriage to-do list was to have a baby! (I swear we only got married so we could start having babies, haha)

We could not wait for the first doctor’s appointment to see our baby and to hear his or her heartbeat. From the very first appointment, there were concerns about our baby’s health, but we stayed positive and I held it together. At 23 weeks, we were told that our baby would not survive. I kept my composure in the consultation room because I have always been a  strong person. I have always put on a brave face during adversity and would never let anyone see me fall apart. Falling apart was something I did privately, but as we made our way down the hall and to the elevator, I could feel myself falling apart. Once off the elevator, I fell to the floor in tears as people walked by. My husband had to pick me up off the floor and hold me up until we got to the car.

A few months later,  my doctor called and told us we had to deliver 3 weeks early. Once again, I  felt my knees buckle and I was unable to stand. I didn’t want to deliver 3 weeks early, I wanted every second with my baby that I could have. I wanted those 3 weeks. But despite what I wanted, we delivered our baby 3 weeks early. 

When our Palliative Care doctor said, “It’s a BOY!”, joy filled my entire body and there was nothing that could take that away. Fifty four minutes later, we were told that our sweet baby boy was gone.  I didn’t cry. Actually, I didn’t cry at all on this day. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was pure euphoria to think that I was finally a mother. (Something I had been anticipating since I was a little girl.) Maybe it was denial. Or maybe it was because I felt that  I had to hold it together for everyone else. If they saw me fall apart, they would too.

Yet that night when all the visitors were gone, the grief came rushing in. It was as if the flood gates had broken, and I could no longer hold it in.I felt so weak. There was nothing that could take away this hurt. I cried in the shower. I cried  in the car. I cried in my bed. I cried while cooking supper, cleaning, and washing clothes. Honestly, there were very few moments when I wasn’t crying. Going out in public or having people come over to our house was terrifying. I hated the thought of people feeling sorry for me or pitying me.

Eventually  I realized my tears weren’t a sign of weakness. They were a  sign of strength; strength that only a parent who loses a child can know. If I was crying, that meant I was still living, and living after losing my child is the most excruciating pain I will ever go through. A child without a parent is an orphan and a married person without their spouse is a widow or widower, but there is no name for a parent who loses a child. There is no name because the thought of losing your child is unfathomable. Losing your child is something that should never happen. But, unfortunately it does. To all the mommas out there who have had babies born sleeping or have had to lay their sweet angel baby to rest too soon and are still living, you are strong. STRONG AS A MOTHER!