Right Where I am: 1 year, 7 months, 1 week and 6 days

I participated in Angies Right where I am project last year, and so I wanted to participate again this year. This is last years post.

I went back and read it…how raw, how sad. I feel sorry for that me last year. I wish I could go there and hold me up.

So here I am RIGHT NOW. Pregnant. It’s what I was hoping for one year ago, and I am happy for my Scarlett coming in September, and yet I still miss Xavier so very much. It is a bizarre world to live in. Happy for the baby that is coming, our beacon of light and hope but knowing his death is what has prompted her existence.

Last night I was in labour and delivery for shortness of breath. They took a triage patient before me into the room beside where I was sitting. I could hear the conversation the nurse was having with the patient. She was 30 weeks with some spotting. OK says the nurse, let’s put you on the monitor. I could hear her put the monitor on her belly and the sound of no heart beat. I could hear her moving it around trying to find the baby. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had closed my eyes and was holding my breath repeating in my head “Find the baby, please find the baby, oh please find the baby”. She found the baby…I exhaled. It never ends this journey. There are things we take with us forever, certain traumas that never release their hold on our hearts.

I often wonder how I got here, in my first post I wrote about being barely able to put one foot in front of the other, and to a certain degree I am still doing just that. I feel like every day I am just trying to get to the day where my baby is screaming and alive…

I have accepted Xavier is dead. There is nothing I can do to ever bring him back. However I think accepting that I will never hold him, kiss him or feel him in my arms again will be a lifelong  process.

Where am I right now? Always grieving, always licking the wound his absence created but also allowing the hope and joy Scarlett has created back into our lives.

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17 thoughts on “Right Where I am: 1 year, 7 months, 1 week and 6 days

  1. “Happy for the baby that is coming, our beacon of light and hope but knowing his death is what has prompted her existence.”

    Yep, it is hard to wrap your head around that, isn’t it?

    Thinking of you as you nuture and carry this new baby. And I’ve been there, in the room next to a woman when there was no heartbeat…. then there was. Was so glad that baby was ok (in that moment at least) but I always wonder why it had to be mine (and yours) who weren’t.
    xo

  2. Oh my heart was also in my mouth as I read your description of the conversation that you overhead between the nurse and her patient in the next room. I was also thinking, please, please, please find the baby. I think once you know that they might not find the baby, that there might be no heartbeat, that is a piece of knowledge that you can never give back.

    Hopeful and happy but still missing. Always missing. Wishing you the very best for the remainder of your pregnancy and for the safe arrival of little Scarlett come September. Remembering your Xavier.

    I love the little footprint and quote in your blog footer, just underneath your comment box here. That’s made me cry.

  3. Dear me I was about to lose it reading that discussion from the next room… thank goodness. So glad you got a complete workup. I am so happy to see you where you are right now mamma. I know what a journey it was to find yourself here and my greatest hope is that Scarlett will bring a new ray of light and love into your arms and heart very soon. xo…

  4. This is where I was last year, trying to reconcile how losing C brought us B. I’m glad you are allowing space for hope and joy, that is a beautiful gift to your babies. Remembering Xavier with you.

  5. Wow, you are pretty much a year ahead of me. I can relate to you post from last year, and aspire to you post from this year, so thankyou. Wishing you every joy that Scarlett will bring to your family.

    Sarah

  6. I am almost a year behind you also, and I truly hope that I feel the same way you do next year. Not “better” but hopeful and coping. Wishing you a peaceful pregancy and that September comes quickly for you.

  7. I remember your post from last year, and reading where you are is beautiful. I too think that it is a lifelong process of acceptance. Sometimes I still feel that panic of “the baby is dead.” It is strange, because I know I understand that intellectually, but sometimes maternally, I think I will always be understanding it. Anyway, thank you for sharing and holding my breath to hear about Scarlett’s birth in September. Thank you again. xo

  8. Beautiful names for both your children. I understand the “find the baby’s heartbeat” moments. Even just general birth announcements add a sort of weight to my conscience until the baby is born…a held breath for friends or family…or strangers. A weird thing for me to admit I suppose. Thank you for sharing. Wishing you beauty and peace in this continued journey. ❤

  9. The loss never leaves you… I have had many moments like your “find the heartbeat” moment. Sadly I have had friends tell me of their losses…but even that I am thankful for because maybe talking over their grief with me will help…I hope so. So happy to hear of your pregnancy. I pray you are blessed with all the joy that my one month old rainbow is currently bringing me. I thank my angel babies for him… they made him a possibility rather than just a hope. Thank you for sharing ❤

  10. I too understand that moment as we had it with my subsequent baby. And I wanted to say that I read your birth stories and we made tat choice too, to let go and not risk a life that was barely a life for our Freddie and I know how it hurts. Xxx

  11. Losing a child strips you of your innocence – you have proof, hard concrete proof, that sometimes, babies die. I desperately want a Rainbow, but I know how very changed I am. I wonder if I could handle it, carrying a child whilst living a life riddled with proof that birth doesn’t equal life. I wonder if another baby would survive, if I would survive.. Stories like yours give me so much hope. I pray that September comes quickly and peacefully. Thinking of you and Xavier.

    “I have accepted Xavier is dead. There is nothing I can do to ever bring him back. However I think accepting that I will never hold him, kiss him or feel him in my arms again will be a lifelong process.” — That sums up so perfectly how I feel. I know Aidan is dead, I watched him die. But I wonder if I will ever know, really, truly know and accept that holding my son, kissing his pouty little lips – is never going to happen again.

  12. So much love to you where you are. I am hoping hard for you as you walk these days of love and hope and fear and missing, the tangle that is pregnancy after a loss. And I am still so sorry that your Xavier isn’t with you right now. What you write about acceptance rings very true to me.

  13. Pregnancy after Loss is such a hard balancing act. This:

    It is a bizarre world to live in. Happy for the baby that is coming, our beacon of light and hope but knowing his death is what has prompted her existence.

    expresses it so well. And this:

    I have accepted Xavier is dead. There is nothing I can do to ever bring him back. However I think accepting that I will never hold him, kiss him or feel him in my arms again will be a lifelong process.

    goes to the heart of my grieving too. I have accepted that my Emma is dead but it is a lifetime of work to accept what that means.

    Hoping for a peaceful remainder of pregnancy for you and Scarlett and, of course, much life & love beyond.

  14. Reading about finding the heartbeat….. (I sort of hold my breath when I know someone is going into hostpital di give birth and only breath out when I know the baby is born)….. reading about accepting because we almost HAVE to..because nothing we do will ever bring our babies back. Reading this is “comforting” (Another paradox of grief) knowing that I’m not an alien…..

    thank you for sharing.

    Maria
    xxxxx

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