I regret not writing how I was feeling in the first days and weeks after Micah left us. I know the reason I didn't write, and a strong reason I feel compelled to now. I realized I was/am grieving Micah in what appears to be a less common way. It's made me feel guilty for handling things this way.
Immediately when Micah passed, as I've said before- I felt an overwhelming amount of peace and joy. I got a chance to meet our son- the son we grew to love and fear for each minute of every day. The son that stuck around to his seventh month of pregnancy. Every single day I feared the unknown. I knew God had a plan for our family, and we put our faith completely in Him. I still lived each day not knowing what would come of Micah. Would he live for long enough for us to actually be able to hold him? Would he live long enough to be formed into society's recognizable version of a baby? Would he be born at nine months and live a few minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Even the less common but not impossible- years? Not knowing what our story was ended up being the hardest emotional struggle I went through. It was a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach each moment of each day knowing his time was limited but could still be years and years, or that the kick I just felt could be his last- until it was.
When Micah was born, the amount of peace I felt cannot ever be expressed. Dare I say I felt relieved. Relieved that we finally knew where our story was headed. We didn't have to justify every dollar we spent as we were trying to save every penny for the inevitable medical bills, funeral expenses, and whatever other expenses were coming our way. We didn't have to politely decline every invitation we received for some future date that we didn't know if we'd be able to commit to. We now knew. Our life that was on hold and completely shattered into pieces for the past few months could finally be started to be pieced back together.
In trying to think of the best way to describe how my life feels right now, I thought of part of our wedding ceremony. I come from a Jewish background and during our wedding day, as Jewish tradition calls for, Matt stomped on and broke a piece of glass. The "breaking of the glass" has many symbolisms, but one that stuck out to us as we were helping our Reverend with the written wedding ceremony was the following:
"The permanence of the broken glass represents a permanent change in the lives of this couple, as well. Just as glasses are broken and cannot ever be exactly the same as they once were, Matthew and Alyssa’s lives will never be quite the same."
At the time I of course did not realize just how fitting that symbolism would be for our future. When we received the news of Micah's diagnosis- our life was shattered into millions of pieces. Each day of pregnancy we would try to glue the pieces back together. Some days we'd get further along, and other days the glue wouldn't hold and pieces would break off. When Micah was born, and we had an idea where our story was going, God gave us new glue. This glue was better glue. It wasn't going to ever put our life or our hearts exactly how they were before learning of Micah's diagnosis, but it was going to hold our life together again. Not all accept this glue from God, not all are ready to accept this glue, some need more time, we accepted the glue. God's grace and support is the "glue" we needed to get our lives back on track. Just as the tiniest of glass shatters will not be able to be put back into the original glass, our hearts will always be incomplete. Our family will always be incomplete- until we reunite together as a family in Heaven.
Matt and I have ZERO regret in choosing to carry Micah. We didn't plan to have a sick child. We didn't make that decision. We did make the decision to carry him and fight for him and allow him to fight for as long as he was meant to. Although that decision led to many month of heartache, fear, and later grief- it allowed us to experience joy. Joy in meeting our son that we wouldn't otherwise have had a chance to meet. Holding him, kissing him, hugging him. Never having regret in the decision we made. Although it was certainly not the easy choice, and was the "road less travelled"- it was the best choice for us.
Earlier I mentioned the guilt I felt in how I was dealing with my grief. Going through this journey- I've had the bittersweet opportunity to meet so many strong women who had to go through the loss of a child. A club that should never exist. A club that is not fair. I know that everyone grieves differently. I had no way of knowing how I was going to grieve. I feel as though most people are completely debilitated with sadness and grief after the loss of a child. Even those who just like us knew of a diagnosis, had very little time with their baby, and had a strong relationship with God. Many of these women find it hard to get out of bed everyday. They are paralyzed. Broken. Empty. I wasn't feeling that to the extreme most do. That led me to feel something I never expected to. Guilt.
Did I not love Micah as much as these mothers loved their babies? Surely since they seem to be more devastated by their loss, they must've loved harder. Am I a cold person? Why am I able to laugh, and love, and live? Why is my life not stopped? What's wrong with me?
I struggle with that daily. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I could not love Micah any harder. I love him just as much as these other grieving moms love their babies. My heart is broken every day. The first two weeks I cried at least once daily. Now- I don't cry everyday, but I still cry. I sleep with the Micah lovey every night. I think of Micah all the time. I look at his pictures all the time. Justin and I talk about Micah everyday- even if it's just at night before bed when I sing, "You are My Sunshine" to both Justin AND Micah as I did everyday of my pregnancy. I shouldn't feel guilty that I am not debilitated by grief- just as others who are should not feel guilty that they are. I don't know why I am handling Micah's passing the way I am. I don't know what I'm handling it differently than others. I was afraid to write this because I did not want to make those who I previously described to feel guilty THEY are grieving the way they are.
No one can ever imagine how they will handle this situation. Ever. Everyone grieves differently. There is NO WRONG WAY TO GRIEVE.
When Matt and I received Micah's diagnosis. We suffered a greater loss than we suffered on April 30th. We were mourning the loss of the perfectly healthy baby, and the life we expected to have with it. All the images of Justin and his sibling playing together. Micah was supposed to complete our family. We planned to have two children. The news we received on January 17th ripped our dreams out of us. No longer could we enjoy the innocence of pregnancy and take for granted having a baby and watching that baby grow. The days after the diagnosis were so much harder for me than the days after Micah's passing.
Instead of it getting easier, it's getting harder. The first few weeks I was so overwhelmed with the peace and joy, I was almost living in a haze. I still cried, but my life wasn't back to normal. Matt was home for the first few weeks, amazing friends made it a point to come visit, family and even strangers were there for me. Meals were delivered, home services were gifted, Justin was babysat or taken for playdates, date nights were purchased.
The support has been nothing sort of overwhelming. To this day- we receive an average of three new cards a day for Micah. We received more mail than we will ever be able to thank each person/family for. The majority of the mail we receive come from complete strangers. Some names I might recognize, others I never will. Some are friends of friends of friends, and some are complete strangers who have been following along with this blog and the Facebook Page. Some cards come with gifts, some cards come full of the most amazing heartfelt words that I'd never be able to emulate, and others with just a signature. All of these mean the world to Matt and me as we see how many lives Micah has touched. Our baby surely did not live a long life- but his legacy continues. I am so far behind on sending Thank You notes, and I don't think I will ever be able to send notes to each person I'd like to. It's not a bad problem to have, but I still feel guilty not having sent all of them out.
Now that life has started to return to a more similar version of what it was like before I was pregnant- before we had a family of four and now only have a family of three, it gets harder. There are two specific things that are painfully hard for me to deal with.
The first sounds extremely vain- and I get that. I am having a hard time having the post-baby body, but not having the baby. It's summer which means less clothing. I've obviously never had the perfect bikini body, but in recent years I worked hard to get my physical body healthy and ready for "swimsuit season". I worked hard to get to the point where I felt comfortable in a bikini. I can't do that this year. I have loose skin that in less than six weeks has not had the time to elasticise. Not having been physically able to exercise since November has taken its toll on my body as well with the loss of muscle and addition of flabby, cellulite skin. This is something that all post-partum mothers go through since you don't look "pre-pregnancy" overnight. Some lucky ones it only takes a month or two, and others never see their bodies the way they used to be. Matt keeps reminding me, "it's only been a month and you're not even cleared to work out". I know this- but I still am embarrassed by it. I think, especially with my stomach, I look good for just having had a baby, relatively speaking. I got rid of all of my maternity clothes after two weeks and was back in some of my jeans. Still, I don't know why I care, but I want to tattoo across my body that I just had a baby. Most women don't need that "tattoo"- their tattoo is their baby. Puffy stomach? Oh- but they are holding their newborn, so clearly it's post-baby. I know it's silly. I know I shouldn't care as much as I do. It's not my weight that I'm upset with- it's simply something that time and exercise will have to change as my body morphs back to the way it was. Having this post-baby body is a constant, almost evil reminder that I don't have my Micah while still reminding me that he existed. It's torturous.
The other thing that is painfully hard is seeing the people in my life who have a child Justin's age get pregnant or have a baby. I didn't think it would bother me. It's so hard though. Justin loves to look at all of these new babies and he is so gentle and kind with them. He walks over to every stroller or carrier he says and inquisitive looks for "beh beh". It's hard to see kids Justin's age interacting with their new siblings knowing that it could have been and SHOULD have been him, too. I have at least five moms that I am friends with inside and out of playgroup who are due around the same time I was. One by one, they'll start to have their babies. I was supposed to be in that mix. I was supposed to have my baby with them. Our toddlers were supposed to play together while we vented to one another about the struggles of balancing life with a newborn and a toddler.
Once I left my job to stay at home with Justin, I was adamant about not being a stay at HOME mom. I treat my job as a stay-at-home mom as my job. I am always on the go with Justin. We are rarely home and our days are filled with activities from the moment Justin wakes up, to the moment he goes to sleep. We are typically only home for Justin's nap, and for when Daddy comes home from work. I told Matt early on that if I ever became lazy, or had a day filled of watching tv- I would need to go back to work for my own sanity. I refuse to be a "bon-bon" mom. I feel awesome about staying home with Justin and have managed a great balance. The biggest reason for this is my involvement in my playgroups. The moms I've grown close to are have become like family to me. I understand that regardless of how close we are outside of our kids, we live for a our children and are close because of them. If our schedules change, we will see each other less, and our close friendships may dissolve. The same way you may be very close to some of your coworkers, but if your jobs change- so may the closeness. It's life. The moms in my playgroup are my coworkers. As their jobs change (from one child to two, and so on) and mine stays the same, I will see them less and less. I hate the thought of that. I've suffered so much loss of the physical closeness of friends as our lives change- I hate thinking it's going to continue. I am fully aware that this is a normal part of life, but that doesn't mean it sucks any less.
I don't want any of my mom friends who are reading this to think you need to hide your pregnancies from me, or not talk about them, or not talk about your children and their siblings, or complain, or do anything that you would do if I wasn't there. I KNOW this is normal, I'm not going to stop coming to playgroups or hanging out with my neighbors, or putting myself in these painful situations because they are just part of something I will have to deal with in my new life. It will never stop. Everytime I see siblings close to one another in age- especially two boys or even two girls, my heart will hurt that it isn't me. It isn't Matt. It isn't Justin.
I planned to have two children. I had my two children- not in the way I had planned and expected, but I gave birth to two beautiful boys. I have crappy pregnancies. They aren't easy on me physically. Of course things could ALWAYS be worse, but I don't like being pregnant. Especially now. I'm lucky I can get pregnant- especially being told my entire life that I may not be able to after some complications I had as a toddler. I still can't imagine ever putting myself through that again. I hope that the physical issues I had during this past pregnancy were related to Micah's diagnosis. I don't want to have another child just because I wanted to raise two children. I don't want to have another child because I don't want Justin to be an only child. I want to have another child because I want another child. Right now, I am happy with Justin. It's likely that one day I may change my mind and decide I want another, but today; now; in this moment; I can't see it happening. Although I'm only raising one, I am a mother to two. I planned for two. We were a family of four and now we're a family of three. I can't wait until my family is complete again. Time will tell what is meant for us.
I want to continuing writing, but I have run out of time. My dear friend lost her baby Isabella Grace after complications from a cold turned to pneumonia and her tiny but strong body was unable to fight any longer after her 109 days here on earth fighting Trisomy 18. Isabella went to Heaven on June 7th at 11:06pm. I have so much I want to write about my feelings, but will need to save that for another post. Please, please, pray for this family. I know how strong her mom is- she showed me everyday. She had strength I don't think I'd ever be able to have. Pray that her strength can continue in a new way. She doesn't have to be strong for Isabella anymore- now she needs to be strong for her toddler, Reagan. Please give her peace- I'm sure the peace I was able to experience was rare, but I pray for her peace. If you are reading this- I love you so much. I don't have words. I hope that nothing I said in this post offends you or anyone reading it who has experienced a loss. I usually proofread and edit as needed to spare feelings. This post I did not. It was so careful every other time I started writing this post that it was constantly deleted- this time I just purged my raw feelings and emotions in the way this blog was originally intended.