Thursday, February 7, 2013

5 years gone....

Five years ago today, I got news that no pregnant woman wants to hear.  I was told that my precious baby had no heartbeat.  I was shattered.  My baby girl was gone.  There was nothing I could do or say that could change that.  My doctor murmured how sorry he was and gave me his promise that we would find out what happened.

Then, like before, I got to go out of the office through the back door, past the staff lunchroom full of giggling office staff eating their lunches, and not passed all those moms who were likely not going to be told that day that their baby girl was dead. 

5 years later and I can still remember every minute of that day so vividly.  Going back to my office, forcing myself to eat lunch, getting a friend to drive me to the hospital so my husband could go home and get us some clothes and stuff and the camera so we could take pictures of our little girl when she was born, silently, into this world.

I remember going back to my office and reaching out to the loss moms, the ones who had been through what I was about to go through and telling them that I was going to be giving birth and that I'd be back.  I was setting my place at the table where no one wants to sit, and introducing myself to the community where I would spend the next days, weeks, months and years of my life.  Leaning on them, and letting people lean on me, and learning to move on in a world where my Shannon would never be.

I wonder sometimes what it would be like to have a daughter.  I have sons.  I wonder if she would be a girly girl, or if she would be rolling around in the dirt.  But there are no answers, only questions.  And while I wouldn't change anything about the life I have now, I wonder about what things would have been like if Shannon had lived. 

And, like I do every once in a while, I use today to thank all of those people who were such a support to me in the dark, dark days after her death.  My BBC loss moms, my loving spouse, my oldest child, my parents, my friend Lynne who, even though just about to give birth to her own daughter, spent time with me on the phone while I was at the hospital, my dear friend Melissa who offered to drop everything to drive hours and states to sit with me if I needed her to.  I truly am a lucky woman to have had so much left, even after losing so much. 

I have come a long way since 2008.  I am stronger than I was that dark, sad February day.  I am different.  I am a loss mom. 

I love you, babygirl.  I hope that the sun is shining where you are, and that you find a butterfly to play with tomorrow on your birthday. 

2 comments:

Lynne said...

I remember vividly talking with you on the phone - sitting on the third step of my stairs, leaning on the railing, and just feeling despair - knowing nothing I could say or do could change what happened or make either of us feel better.

Every time Hannah has a birthday, I think of you and Shannon.

And get this kick in the pants. I had a friend who lost her 8 month old son three weeks after my son was born. So when Thomas has his birthday, I think of her and baby Mack.

Maybe I'm the bad luck charm. Or maybe bad chit happens randomly and I've just been dam lucky. This Easter weekend I'll think about your Shannon, and my friend Julie's Mack, and all our babies we didn't get to meet and hope and pray that the meaning behind Easter is real and true and we will get to hold all our children again in time.

Liz said...

Lynne -! Your friendship and support has been a gift to me. I truly believe that people are brought together for a reason and we met under the saddest of circumstances and I am glad to call you a friend.