I'ts been one month today that you have been gone from me, if you count by the day of the month. But when you are pregnant, you count by weeks so I lit candles for you on Friday, since that's the day of the week that you were born. I miss you. Today I am filled with regret and I have had a list buzzing in my head for a couple of days now. It will probably only get longer as time goes on, but hopefully it will eventually get easier to forgive myself. I love you. I wish you could have met your big sister. God, she would have been wonderful to you.
Rest in peace, little one.
The things I regret:
I didn't get a 3D ultrasound after we knew you were going to die. It didn't occur to me until I saw that on a board I had posted on but didn't return to until you were already gone.
I didn't kiss you. Your skin was starting to peel and your poor little face was so deformed, all I could bring myself to do was kiss you on the forehead where the little hat was covering up hydrocephaly. I feel badly about that now because of the next thing.
I mourn the baby I dreamed of, not the baby I had. When I think of you alive, I think of a happy, smiling baby, not what you really would have been. Sometimes this feels like abandoning you.
This one I just thought of: we don't have a picture of our whole family. I don't even have a picture of me pregnant with you that I know of. I should have had Kira come to the hospital to say goodbye. She is such a tough girl, she probably would have been fine.
I deeply, deeply regret the way you died. It was the best way we had available to keep you from suffering too much, but I still think it was probably not painless to you and I'll always wonder if you were scared.
I regret that the only way I could protect you was to let you go. Mommy's are supposed to fix things. They just don't make a band-aid for this.
And right now, I regret that I am in a hurry to stop grieving so I can get off the meds and try again. I'm not trying to replace you, but I don't have much time and I still wanted a chance at a living baby and Kira getting to be the big sister. That feels terribly selfish and unfair to you. If I didn't have fertility problems I could give myself more time with just you, it's not fair.
I miss you. I love you.