Friday, June 3, 2011

Right Where I Am: One Year, One Month, Six Days Later

Okay, I've enjoyed reading all your posts about 'where you are' right now after your loss as kicked off by Angie at still life with circles, but I'm honestly having a hard time figuring out where I'm at with Aidan's death. His death is currently so emotionally tied up with all that I'm going through with Acorn, it's hard to even separate the two situations in my head....but I'll try, just for you guys.


Where am I at?

I still miss him. I still think about him every day and wish that things could have been different for him and for us. I wish I had got to spend more time with him. I wish I had more pictures of him. I wish I could remember what his ears looked like. Wish I had moulds of his hands and not just his feet. Wish I knew what colour his eyes would have been and what his voice would have sounded like. Wish I could hold him one more time.

Still wish that I could have saved him. Some how, some way.

But I can't. And, over time, that has just became how it was. How it is. Aidan is dead, but I am alive. As I said in an earlier post, it will never be 'okay' that he died, but our lives have continued on and Brian and I are 'okay'. We have found the resilience within ourselves. Life without him is hard, and some situations and moments are harder than others. But over time, life has became more and more bearable, livable, even enjoyable. He is not here...but I am, and I would be doing him a disservice not to live the life I am given. He didn't get the I'll have to take it for him.

And then I got pregnant again. For awhile things were going well. We felt happier, more fulfilled, more hopeful about our future. I don't mean to imply that Acorn was 'making up' for Aidan. It was that it was so nice to feel like we somehow were being granted a second chance at having some control over our lives. That was a huge thing that Brian and I felt we lost with Aidan. Yes, we lost a child, and that was the worst thing ever...but it was also so hard to feel like we lost control of the direction of our lives. We wanted a baby, a family of our own, just like millions of other couples our age. And while we got pregnant with somewhat more trouble than others seemed to endure, that was only the beginning. After weeks of bed rest, bad news, bleeding, pain and fear, Aidan was gone...just like that. When I got pregnant with Acorn we had hope that things could be more 'normal'.


We stepped out of one nightmare-ish roller coaster of a reality and into another.

And all my emotions and thoughts this pregnancy are coloured by what happened to Aidan. I felt I did pretty well through the first trimester. I felt like I could cope with the stress of being a pregnant babylost mama. Yes, it would be difficult and we would probably worry more, but we also felt like our prior situation was so far out of the norm that it was likely we wouldn't have the same complications. I felt I could be relaxed if everything was shown to be proceeding 'normally'. And for awhile, it was.

In those first 14 weeks I was doing well, feeling more positive about my life, myself, and my body. I was hopeful right up until I saw the spotting. And I knew. Right then, I knew. I tried to keep up the optimism. Tried to listen to the doctors when they said to remain 'cautiously optimistic'. Blow it off as babylost mother fear...but I knew. Things were crumbling, just like last time. My body wasn't in my control anymore, again. I was deviating from normal, from safe, again. Things were falling apart, again.

So, I wasn't surprised on that Thursday, 10 weeks and one day ago to feel that old familiar gush down below...

Rupturing again has made me relive my pregnancy experience with Aidan in a much more technicolour way than I ever wanted or expected. I feel more fragile this time around. More prone to sadness and despair. More dissatisfaction with my medical care. More anger and more grief over 'why?'

And how I will feel about Aidan, will be shaped in the end by what happens to Acorn. If Acorn survives and does well, I will be thrilled, over-joyed, feel blessed and grateful. But I will wonder "why couldn't Aidan have had the same outcome?" He was just as loved, just as wanted, just as special. My heart will sing for my living child, and will weep for my dead one.

If Acorn survives but has major life long difficulties, I may wonder if Aidan got the better deal. Aidan was born, he was held, loved, and then he was gone. No more pain or suffering. No tubes, wires, surgeries, wheelchairs, treatments, etc. No more uncertainty. This is actually the outcome that scares me the most. As much as I want Acorn to live, I want him or her to live well. Live with potential. Acorn deserves it. I have been strong enough to be a babylost I strong enough to be a special needs mom? This feels like a continuation of the uncertainty and fear that has been running our lives for the last two years. I don't know if I could live like that forever.

If Acorn dies, I am worried about what will happen to us in the wake of two losses. Two drawn out, but ultimately failed pregnancies is a lot to contend with mentally, emotionally. socially and physically. Will the grief and the sadness and the anger ever get better? Will our resilience hold up under the weight of all of it? How will we ever feel any hope for our future? Will we ever get that longed for sense of control, safety, security? Will everything we create always die?

Where I'm at is in limbo. I do not know what will come from our current circumstances and my thoughts on babylost-ness are now so hopelessly tied up with our current pregnancy that I just cannot tease them apart.

All I can say for sure is that one year, one month and six days later I still wish Aidan was here, but I have learned to live with the fact that he isn't.

And I still love him more than words can say.


  1. This is such a beautiful, heartfelt post Emily.

    I have no idea what to say because you're exactly where you are right now. I imagine this is such a tremendously difficult thing to endure. Are you strong enough for a special needs child? Absolutely. But I know where you're coming from with your concern and your worries.

    I very much want this experience to be different for you, for you husband, and for Acorn. Thinking of you.

  2. Being where you are in your grief and pregnant again with such hard stuff going on. . . I just hate this for you. You both deserve a normal pregnancy. It is utterly unfair ~ all of it. Hugs.

  3. You're so right. It will never be ok that our babies died. Never. But I guess somehow, we have to be ok don't we? Because there isn't much of an alternative.
    I continue to draw strength from you and your story. I simply cannot believe you are living another nightmare pregnancy. I wish so very much things could be different/easier for you.

  4. I am just so sorry to read about Aidan. And your current pregnancy, oh, honey. It is so hard. Your post is so honest and important. It doesn't get easier to live this life. It is hard to explain that unless you live through it. Thank you for taking a moment to be honest about right where you are. xo

  5. Where you are right now is such a difficult place. To have been through so much and to be going through so much again - I wish it weren't all so hard and unfair and exhausting.

    And in the face of all of this, your love for Aidan shines so brightly in this post, as does your love for Acorn. Thank you for sharing these words.

  6. Pregnancy after loss is so hard even when all is going right. I'm sorry you are having such a terrible time. I lived with uncertainty for several months before my son died, and that is it's own kind of hell. Thinking of you and Aidan and Acorn.

    One of the things I'm enjoying as I read all of these Right Where I Am posts is seeing patterns, things that different people are feeling and finding different ways to express, like the fact that Aidan being gone with never be okay, but that somehow you can be.

    Thank you for taking part and sharing your story.

  7. "I would be doing him a disservice not to live the life I am given. He didn't get the I'll have to take it for him."

    This stood out for me - so true.

    I am sorry Aidan is not in your arms right now and that you are grieving and coping with a difficult pregnancy after loss. It's not fair.