Almost Touching..

When I got the email, and it was a beautiful passage about parenthood, about parent’s being commited to a life of worry because we love our children so deeply. For a moment I thought my grandmother sent it to me because I am a parent. It felt wonderful, she does think of Evan and acknowledges I am a parent. Sure no one talks about it anymore, but she sent me this email, so that means she is recognizing my parent-hood right?
Wrong 😦 the next thing I noticed is that she sent it to everyone in her address book even those who don’t have or do not want to have children. For they too are children and have caused worry to their parents. However, just for a second, I wanted to feel like a mom in the presence of my family. I like how that feels. Me=Mother.

It’s tough to carry a child to term, to give birth and then to have them fade away, leaving none to remember them clearly except their mommy and daddy. It’s tough. I want to be part of the parent’s club. I want to say "yes I know" when my co-workers talk about the turmoils of pregnancy and parenthood. All I can say is "Someday I truly hope to be kept up all night long by a screaming child."

I want to get a patch for the back of my denim jacket. Not one that say Panthera or Motley Crue, but rather, Mother to an Angel. I dream of the day when society openly acknowledges stillbirth and infant loss and we can talk about it in polite company rather then living in the shadows and feeling like a pariah. The day when I can keep a picture of Evan on my desk without people being afraid of me, or disturbed by the fact that although intact and perfect, he is not pink and living. I will keep dreaming, because once the dreams are gone there will be nothing left.

About mommamaynard

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein. When it feels like your world has been shattered, and you have reached rock bottom, you must make a choice: Stay where you are and fade away, or keep moving forward. Thankfully I chose to move forward and was blessed with the two most wonderful children after the death of my first in early labor. Things are looking up.

Posted on November 3, 2008, in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. I think of you as mother too!~
    But I know how you feel.
    This last mothers day everyone I knew {except for my hubby Chad} did not wish me a Happy Mothers Day.
    It made me sad & angrey. HELLOOO~ I had a baby, I’m still a mommy to an Angel.

  2. I think of you as a mommy. You’ve felt what it is to be utterly attached to someone and care about their every detail and worry about them. I’ve never had to stay up all night with a screaming baby but I’m still a mommy 😉
    But I know what you mean about the mommy club. As soon as I took Caspian out in public, I was in. Women gave me knowing looks, we shared something in common. It’s a very special part of my life, finally fitting in, having a role that other people acknowledge. You deserve that too.

  3. I am so sad, you are the second person this week to talk about family not validating/realizing the importance of our lost babies. I don’t think I could ever let it go unspoken – I have two daughters. I wouldn’t have my second if it weren’t for Julia, you know? How can you ignore that???
    So why not wear the patch? Why the hell not? What makes the loss of a precious child more taboo and scandalous than obscene lyrics of bands people wear patches of??
    You’ve given me a great idea. I think I’ll make a similar article of clothing for the babe in my womb – something that says “Sister To An Angel”.
    I hope you find/wear your patch, too. We make it normal, we make it ok to talk about – if not us, who?

  4. I think the idea of your jacket is great. The love you have for your son is no different then any other parent. I think it’s just hard for people to know what to say sometimes.

    • I hear that alot. I guess for those of us in this possition it’s so easy, if someone were to say, I am sorry, I can’t imagine and I find it hard to know what to say, that is just perfect.
      People often don’t get that in order to heal, we need to talk about our babies, to acknowlege they were real, or else we get to live with this shamefull secret like it’s us who did something wrong and should be ashamed of it.
      We just want to not pretend it didn’t happen.
      I know it can be hard for other people, my own mother struggles with it.

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