Yes, maybe there will be another child in the future. Maybe. But it won’t be Baby.
Will I think about her every year on the day she died? A hard date to forget – the day after our anniversary. Or will I forget about her eventually? Will she lose importance, since she wasn’t planned for, wasn’t expected, wasn’t known? Will she be there when I have another child? Will she be in my thoughts as I watch my child sleep? Will I always wonder if she would have been the same? If she would have been quiet and calm? Or maybe fussy and colicky?
I think that she’ll always be there – always.
The articles say to keep the lines of communication open with family and friends. I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t want to deal with sympathy. Or worse, for those who say, “But you didn’t know you were pregnant, so it’s not that big of a deal.” Believe me, people are insensitive that way. A knows, my mom knows, and my best friend/cousin knows. That is it. That is all who are going to know about this. I do not feel the need to tell anyone else. Talking does not make me feel better. Writing does. This is the way I grieve.
Maybe one day, when the pain has dulled, I will be able to speak of Baby to others. But I think I prefer to preserve her memory untarnished from the words and thoughts of others.
*Clearly, as it was very early in the pregnancy, I have no idea of whether Baby was going to be a boy or a girl, but writing he/she was driving me crazy and I refuse to refer to Baby as “it”, so she it is.
I’ve been reading about miscarriages. Apparently mine is called a ‘chemical pregnancy’ because it was before the 5th week. I’ve estimated that I was probably anywhere between a couple weeks to four weeks along. Chemical pregnancies are common, and usually the mother doesn’t even know. According to www.babyhopes.com ’50 to 60% of first pregnancies end in miscarriage very early in pregnancy. Most occur without the woman even knowing she was pregnant.’