Wednesday, December 11, 2013

At this time tomorrow...

Everything will be different.  Again.

At this time tomorrow, your sister will be here with us, Luke.  I can't describe the relief I can already anticipate feeling once we're there.  I've been waiting for that for 9 months now.  I can't believe it's finally time.

This morning I went back through our pictures--of meeting you.  I'm not sure I should have done that, but I wanted to feel connected to you before we jump on this next rollercoaster.  I wanted to see your face refresh my memory so we can see if your sister looks like you.

But looking back at the pictures of you and me and your Daddy...the hurt and sadness and fear and anguish are so visible.  It still hurts to see us like that. 

I never want to feel that way again.  I see those pictures, and I feel those feelings so hard.  But I know that in no way are the feelings as raw right now as they were that very day.  Thank god. 

I still can't believe what happened to you.  To us.  I still can't believe we have pictures of our son in a tiny coffin.

Today it doesn't really feel real.  Today I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that everything will change tomorrow.  That I will finally understand what it means to make it through pregnancy and have your baby alive in your arms.  Something that seems to be a given for everybody else...I'll finally get to understand it. 

Today I wish I ever got to see your smile.  Or your eyes. 

I'm scared, but I know that at this point, there's nothing else to be scared of, because the worst has happened. 

I still miss you, today, and forever.  That will never change.


  1. Tomorrow will be the definition of bittersweet. With the great happiness Lena brings, Luke's loss will be magnified. But I know he'll be there with the three of you every step of the way. Love you and can't wait for Baby Lena's arrival!!! xoxoxo

  2. I've just spent the last two days reading your entire blog. I feel like I know you. I feel like I am you. Because I am, in a way.
    I lost my full-term son five months ago today at three days old. No answers, just guesses as to why he suffered severe brain damage during birth. It's been agonizing and it's been a roller coaster, as you know.
    Your writing has resonated with me in a way that no one else's has. You say the exact things I've said to myself, you skillfully articulate things that I have not been able to put into words. I envy your facility with words and ability to share your story so openly. I wish we were friends because I feel so alone now, but your blog has helped a little. It has also given me hope that I can heal a little bit more each month. Thank you for doing this.
    Good luck tomorrow. Even though we haven't met, I'll be thinking of you.

    1. D...I'm so so sorry that you know all of these feelings firsthand. I hate that there seems to be more and more of us getting added to this club every day, and I wish there was a way to make it stop.

      But to know that we can connect and have mutual understanding with others who've been through it--I know that made me feel less alone. It doesn't seem like kids die--At least not any that I've known. I'm glad to know that I've somehow made you feel a little less alone.

      Hang in there. This is never going to be easy. But it does change, thankfully. And please drop me an email if you ever feel like it...The only reason I started blogging was to get my feelings out and connect with others, so please holler if you'd like ♥

    2. D, I am so sorry. If you would like to contact me, I have some ideas that may help you unravel your son's story.

  3. Wishing you well for baby girl's arrival. A sister for Luke, how wonderful.

  4. I've been thinking about you very often. I'm so overjoyed that Luke's little sister will be here tomorrow. I pray for a wonderful delivery, speedy recovery, and lots of continued healing from your heartbreak. Best wishes...*hugs*

  5. Praying for you and thinking of you today.