I was planning on writing a post about how I really hoped this baby was a girl. That I know you aren't supposed to care and to hope for a healthy baby, etc etc. But even still I wanted a girl because I wanted very much for Alice to have a sister. I wanted her to have that bond and that love that only sisters have. Well, baby #2 did turn out to be a girl. She came into the world on February 14th and was the size of James' hand. We named her Anna and we buried her with my mom and dad.
Someone told me she wasn't meant for me and that she was meant for my mom. Maybe she was, considering I was due on the 1 year anniversary of her death. Others have told me about their experiences or their sister's story or friend's ordeal. Everyone has said that it was nothing I did or didn't do and that these things just happen. My brain understands that. I nod and I agree, but when I'm alone and find my thoughts wandering my heart speaks differently. These are feelings of guilt I'm all too familiar with - a decade old conflict between my brain and my heart that I never resolved since my father died and that has hung around to watch me deal with my mother's illness and now the loss of my baby girl.
Alice is of course too young to understand what happened. She was in the room when the doctor told us and she looked at me and frowned while I cried. I swear since then she hugs me tighter. Everyday she keeps growing. She is talking and reading letters and is just the happiest baby. Her energy is amazing and being her mom keeps me sane. I look at her with so much love, but I also look at her and I mourn for what could have been another one of her - her best friend for life, her other half...
A coworker told me today that the hardest part of dealing with loss is that the whole world just keeps moving. You want it to stop and cry with you but life just keeps moving forward. I don't feel my baby moving anymore and I will never nurse her and watch her grow. The reality of this wakes me from my sleep at night and during the day makes my legs feel like I'm walking through mud. And it leaves me to wonder when I will start moving again with the world. Something my brain knows will eventually happen with time.
