Parker Grace Good

I need to go here. I need to write this. I don’t necessarily want to, but I need to. If it makes you sad or weirds you out – you don’t have to read it.

 I’ve been incredibly silent about her the past four months. I’ve only spoken with Mat, my parents and a friend about her. While my words have been few, my heart has had a constant longing for her. I’ve been feeling like something’s missing. It’s like the feeling of waking up after a bad dream where it haunts you during the day. You know - at random times you’ll find yourself thinking about the dream and get shivers. Or tears in this case. Most of the time I’m really good at stuffing it deep down inside and not letting myself “go there”. Here lately, it’s like I just can’t escape it. My grief has been stuffed to the top and is starting to overflow. I've come in contact with some emotions that I'm not comfortable with.

I don’t feel like I have a connection with her beyond a few pictures, a tiny box of ashes and a handful of memories. I remember her little kicks inside of me before she died. I remember seeing her lifeless little body on the ultrasound when we found out we lost her. Seeing her heart still – not beating at all.   I remember feeling her coming out of my body. I remember seeing her tiny body for the first time and even holding the little blanket she was wrapped in. I remember seeing what the extra weeks in my body had done to hers. I remember her tiny, delicate little foot.  I remember not wanting them to take her from the hospital room, but knowing she couldn't stay there forever... knowing that our family of four was to be a family of three. And that’s it. That’s all I have left of a little person who will forever change me as a mother and as a person.

I feel like everywhere I go lately I am bombarded with twins. Double BOB strollers with cute little twins on walks. Two sets of twins in whole foods. I actually had a breakdown at WF right in front of the filet mignons (hopefully the deli guy just thought I was really excited about the rump roast that was on sale). Twins on Kathy Lee & Hoda. It’s like a constant reminder of what was taken away from me. It’s a like a little slap in the face each time I encounter them. I find myself not only mourning a baby I’ll never get to see grow up, but also mourning not getting to be a mom to twins.

I know almost exactly what she would look like right now.  But I have no idea what her little personality would be like. Would she smile with her whole body like Campbell? Would she giggle when I sing her silly little songs? Would she give the super pouty lip like her sister? Would she like to curl up and cuddle with me first thing in the morning as she’s waking up? Would she fight going to bed at night? 

I still don’t understand why this happened; why our lives have ventured down this path. While I pray that God allows me to do something good – something healthy with this pain, I’m angry. I know God didn’t “DO” this. He didn’t take her from us, nor did he WANT us to lose her. But He didn’t stop it either. And this is where I am – trying to figure out why He didn’t let us have her. While I trust Him & love Him – I just don’t get it. And I’m mad. Mad at the doctor. Mad at the situation. Just plain mad. I know we live in a broken world. I get it – but knowing that doesn’t give me peace right now.

And then I feel guilty. I think about mamas I’ve gotten to know who’ve lost the only baby they were carrying. Early or late in pregnancy, some full term, some born with a fatal diagnosis to mamas who chose to carry them anyways. And I feel guilty because I have a beautiful, healthy little lady - yet still  want her sister to be here with us.

I feel a need to talk about her. To validate her. To connect with her. To remember her.  It still feels wrong to not to mention her when someone asks if I have children. (But seriously – talk about weirding someone out to go down that road with a stranger.) And at the same time I realize that my story could be scary for other pregnant mamas. They don’t need to hear it. They don’t need me to be the crazy lady at Hobby Lobby who freaked me out last year.

I’ve written this post over and over in my mind. Usually when I’m up in the middle of the night nursing and don’t need to worry about letting my emotions spill over. I kept putting it off. Didn’t know how or if I should share these feelings, but knowing just the same that I needed to.

Maybe it took this rainy, fall day while we've had a 4 hour power outage.  While the laundry had to wait.  While my laptop was actually charged. While Campbell decided to take a long nap to sit down and write it.