Life After Arden

I’m upset about having to leave the hospital without my baby in my arms.

Always thinking of you, even when we are out and about.

I imagine you are part of the reason these beautiful places stay beautiful

The days where the scent of baby powder and freshly laundered chenille blankets filled the air never came around because

August never came

His first day of school and kindergarten graduation never happened because

August never came

My 29th birthday with my nine day old baby that I so greatly desired won’t happen because

August never came

You were supposed to come in August, not in March, but the stork must’ve made a mistake and delivered you early, so because of that

—with the twinkling stars in the night sky

I shouldn’t be living this day as a bereaved mother

I don’t ask “why me” in regards to my son having to die at 17 weeks gestation. “Why me”, in my opinion for myself, sounds like “why me and not her?” and that’s not something I could ever bring myself to think, regardless of how I feel about someone. I would never wish this pain, this grief on anyone.

I wonder if these mothers I see around out and about with their strollers and babies on their chest now how lucky they are. In that moment that I’m looking at them and envisioning what my life could’ve been with my own son, silently perishing in front of them do they know how good they have it? That they’re so blessed that they get to see their babies smile and hear their babbling? Maybe they DO know, maybe they know the pain of longing for a little person you grew inside of you whose life was taken before it could ever even begin.

It’s so easy to assume that these beautiful mothers with their babies on their hip had an easy time getting to where they’re at, but it’s not always the case. Either way, it’s not something they should feel guilty for, being able to have babies with no problem with no losses in between or struggling for years for two pink lines on a test.