As time hurtles towards her due date, I feel more and more alone in my grieving. No one else is shocked or devastated by her loss anymore, just me. No one else is dreading May with all their heart, no one else is thinking every minute “she should be here”.
As I TTC, no one else is thinking I shouldn’t have to be doing this. Everyone else sees me picking myself up, dusting myself off, and trying again. “Getting over it” and “moving on”. But it’s not so. She wasn’t a miscarriage, or a lost pregnancy. Maybe she would’ve been at 6 weeks or 8 weeks or 12 weeks. But she was a baby, a little baby girl I held in my arms, a little baby girl who liked to touch her face with her hands and suck her thumb, who wiggled and flipped every time I drank juice, who was most active between 4 and 7pm. A little girl who was my daughter, a whole daughter, a whole complete person, who will always be missing, and always be missed.
TTC’ing again doesn’t undo anything. It doesn’t help. Having another baby won’t heal me, or take away the pain. It just adds another layer to the grief, and hopefully adds a new joy to a life lacking joy.