Mother's Day: A Time for Reflection - Part 2

The other thing I've been reflecting on these last few weeks is the baby we lost. Until you experience the loss, it is impossible to truly understand. I thought I could imagine what a miscarriage would feel like emotionally. I was wrong. I am not trying to say that you can't have compassion or empathize, but once you experience the loss, it changes you. It's been 1 year, 7 months and 27 days since I found out the life inside of me was gone. I think about her (because I've always felt that it would have been a little girl) all the time. I think about what she would look like and how she would act. On 4/20, it was one year from my due date. I would have a 13 month old running around by now! I miss her. BUT, I don't regret the loss. Without the miscarriage, I wouldn't have my handsome man. 

I use to think of my heart as mine. A singular item. But now, I see it as something I divided into four and gave away. John holds the first part. He is my rock. He supports me and loves me, no matter what. He sees past my flaws and finds the good in me. Without him, I wouldn't survive half of what life throws at me. The second part, it belongs to Chloe. Her beauty, both internal and external, are an inspiration. Her laugh, her smile, her mind - they are amazing. Plus, she has a way of breaking through my anger and frustration and bringing me back to reality. Finn, he has the third part. What we both went through this past year...man. I won't go into all the emotions I've felt right now. That's another post. But lets just say, I feel like he's my wings. There's something about those eyes and that amazing smile that fills me with so much joy. The fourth part belongs to our little angel that we'll never know anymore than the dreams we had for her. I will always miss her, but I know she is watching down on me. I have this image of her in my head, sandy blond hair like her sister, with curls around her face. She's has one hand in my Grandma Mac's hand and the other hand in my Grandma Norfleet's. I know that all three of those amazing girls will watch over me and my family, and for that - I am truly blessed. 

This is something a someone sent to me when we lost the baby. We hadn't really spoken in years. But sending this to me was an amazing gesture. I thank her for reaching out in this way. I've reread it several times over the last 1-1/2 years, and strangely, it brings me comfort. 

My Ugly Shoes

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable Shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in the world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by
before they think of how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of the shoes I am a stronger women.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.