Teddy Bear Tins

September 10, 2010

Reflections of a Babyloss Auntie

I've been debating about whether to post this post for so long that maybe the title would more appropriately be "Confessions" of a Babyloss Auntie...

In the babyloss community, there is a special sensitivity to the fact that it can sometimes hurt when others have the chance to get what we or our families have lost. When someone gets the chance to have a little one of their own, alive and breathing. Even though we are so happy for them, truly happy, that happiness can make our hearts break just a little bit more as we watch what we never had. We tread lightly, hoping to let others get the joy and congratulations they deserve without falling to pieces.

So what, then, do we feel when WE are the ones waiting on our own little baby?

Yes, I'm pregnant. Very pregnant. 8 months. And until now I've been too afraid to say that here. I just felt like this is Aiden's place, this is a babyloss haven, and that this news would somehow harm that.

But after a lot of thought (and possibly some tears), I've come to realize that it is not only appropriate but even important for me to let everyone know this news, because no corner of my pregnancy experience this last many months has not been touched by Aiden. He is so much a part of this.

And I think the things that I have felt and the struggles I have carried are probably not just mine. Someone else, somewhere, is expecting a baby after a loved one has lost their own. Someone else struggles to respond when strangers ask, "Oh is this the first grandchild?" They too keep spreadsheets of home-doppler readings and kick counts and freak out anytime anything feels in any way different, and think that people who think that there is "only" a 2% risk of something bad happening are much too optimistic. Someone else covets ultrasound pictures like a psychotic hoarder, and is more than happy to pay out of pocket for 3d and 4d pictures and video of an unborn child because you just never know. Someone else spends 15 minutes preparing non-pregnancy topics of conversation before calling the father or mother of an angel, so that you don't feel like you are "rubbing it in their face." To that someone else - officially, you are not alone.

So finally, this is why I have been unusually quiet here. I was never gone. And Aiden has never left my mind. In fact, he's been present more than ever, in ways I'd never predicted. If it weren't for Aiden I have no doubt that my husband and I would still be busy working on our carefully laid out plans, step by step, for how our lives were to progress. Instead, thanks to my incredible nephew, we've had the courage to recognize what is more important and to let go of those things that will never mean much of anything in the end anyway.

I love you little guy, and miss you and pray for your parents every day. We can't wait to meet your new cousin, and hope that you'd pull whatever strings you can with the Big Cheese up there so that we might get to meet our son, even for a little while, before he is called back home.