*********** TRIGGER WARNING: This post discusses infant loss and grief. ***********
Dear Pregnant Friend,
First of all, you need to know this: I love you. And I love your baby. Already. More than you know. I need you to know this before you keep reading.
This comes from a place of love.
I heard through the grapevine (or social media) that you are pregnant. And, as a loss mom, it hurt me in so many ways. More than it should have. I was not excited for you. I cried, but not out of happiness. I was upset, anxious, maybe even a little angry, and my feelings were hurt.
Please though, let me explain. I know that I have been more sensitive since my loss. My baby died. In my arms. When she was two hours old. That is not normal. I knew that my baby was going to die. I had to go to the hospital prepared to not take my baby home. None of that is normal.
I don’t want to be sensitive. I want my daughter back.
I don’t want you to feel like you need to treat me differently. I want you to feel like you can come to me and tell me your big news. Because a baby is big, life changing, exciting news. I don’t want to hear it from a family member, or a friend, or through social media. I want you to know that you can come to me and tell me.
But I need you to understand that I won’t celebrate. At least not at first. I might not even congratulate you. Because my initial reaction is grief, and then fear. For you and your baby.
I know how this sounds. I will probably ask you a million questions. Because I love you, I love your baby. And I am not excited. I am so scared for you. I don’t want you to go through what I went through. I don’t want you to feel the greatest love you’ve ever known, only to have it ripped away. I don’t want you to leave the hospital without your baby.
I will ask if you are finding out the gender. But only because I want to know when your anatomy scan is. So I can pray for you, check in on you, hold you and your baby in my heart. I don’t ask so I can find out the gender. I ask so I can know if your baby has working kidneys or if his or her little heart is working like it should.
I probably won’t want to meet your baby right away.
It reminds me of what I lost. Even though I have a healthy son at home. I have a daughter that didn’t make it home. I would have done anything to have those early, sweet, snuggly days at home. I can’t hold another baby and not think of her. I don’t want to make things about my grief. I want you to enjoy your baby and not have to watch me cry over what I lost.
» » RELATED READ: How to Support Grieving Parents: Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness «
If you have a baby shower, I won’t be there. I will send a gift after your baby is born. But I am so scared to celebrate your baby. Because what if something happens? I don’t want you to have to sit with a nursery full of stuff that will never be used.
I didn’t even tell people I was pregnant with my son. I didn’t want a baby shower for myself. I was terrified until he was safely in my arms.
I understand that my grief is not your problem. My trigger warnings are not yours to handle. If you need to break up with me as your friend, I understand. I have been absent. My loss changed me to my core. I’m not the same person I was. But that doesn’t mean that I love you and your baby any less.
You deserve to celebrate.
You deserve to take your baby home. Nobody deserves to leave the hospital with empty arms. But so many people do. So many people aren’t even able to conceive. Unfortunately, I know I am not alone in these mixed emotions.
I know I’ve messed up and not been there for you like I should have. But I still love you. I still want to be here for you. I want our babies to grow up together, and I want you to tell your kids about my child that is missing from all the play dates. As much as your child deserves to have a beautiful life, so did she.
Ava had a beautiful life. A perfect life. She only knew love.
I want to share her with your kids. I want your kids to know the love that Ava did. The same love that her brother feels now. We will share that with your baby. Eventually. When it doesn’t remind us of the pain that we’ve experienced.
Tell me about your baby. Let me pray for you. Let me pray for them. Just don’t make me find out from someone else. Because I love you, and I want to mean something to you. I want my babies to mean something to you. Yours already means a heck of a lot to me.
I love you. I always will.
Always,
Your Grieving Friend
The opinions expressed in this post are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of ABQ Mom, its executive team, other contributors to the site, its sponsors or partners, or any organizations the aforementioned might be affiliated with.
