Hi, sweet girl. I'm trying harder to write for you more often, even if it's just a little something. I tend to be long-winded when I write - not so much when I speak - and to think that whatever I write for you here should be lengthy and deep. I guess I want to do these posts BIG and MEANINGFUL because writing here is one of the few things I can do for you. That just leads to me going weeks or months without writing and really connecting with you, so I'm going to try harder from now on just to write "in the moment." I miss you, sweetheart...I always do. In five days you will have been sixteen months old. I can't believe it's been so long since we held you. I can't believe we are still struggling to give you a brother or sister. I've resigned to put it in God's hands. He will bless us when He sees fit, but I sure do hate the wait, sweetheart, and I sometimes end up kicking and screaming (both figuratively AND literally) in frustration at how long this is taking. Please talk to God for us, baby girl. Please tell him to throw us a bone already! I tell him, but maybe you could put in a good word for your mommy and daddy. Love you to Heaven and back!
I follow a lot of stillbirth and infant loss groups on Facebook. Some people would think that's morbid, but given our situation, it's completely normal and comforting. Honestly, seeing all the posts from bereaved parents in my news feed is a huge comfort. It confirms that we are not alone in this. We are not the only ones struggling.
One group posted this question today: "Since our children died before they were born they don't really have a
"birthday" but I refer to February 1st as his birthday because I don't
know what else to call it. Do you guys do the same?"
Many people (most of them) said they refer to the day that they gave birth to their babies as their babies' birthdays. That is only fitting, in my opinion. Some people said they call this their baby's "angelversary." I have always hated that word. I wrote this in response to the question and to address the term "angelversary":
"Norah
was born on December 12, 2011. That is her birthday because it is the
day I gave birth to her. We know that she died sometime within the 24
hours prior to her birth because I felt her move the night before after
eating dessert; she would always move after I ate something sweet. I am
almost positive she died while I was asleep. I went into labor the
next day around 2:45 PM. I was 38 weeks, 5 days. Full term. I really do not like the term "angelversary." To me,
it is a euphemism that serves to gloss over what actually happened; she
died. People have such a hard time with baby death that they've even
come up with this flowery term for it. I refuse to use it. Norah died.
My baby is dead. I will not gloss over the heaviness and reality of
her death, yet I don't speak about the day she was born as the day she
died. December 12th is her birthday. It is the day I gave birth to her,
the one and only day we held her in our arms, kissed her perfect face,
fingers, and toes, gave her a bath, dressed her, took pictures of her, and spent
sixteen unforgettable hours with her. I gave birth to death, but even
though her body was dead, I know Norah was there with us in spirit, and
the spirit is the most important part of us all. Her spirit still lives
in the arms of our loving Creator and one day I will be with her again."
I don't even like calling her "our angel." She is our daughter, our baby, our pride and joy, our greatest love and and our greatest sorrow. Some people have said, "You have a beautiful angel watching over you always," in what I can only guess is an attempt to comfort us. That sentiment just frustrates me. We didn't want an angel. We wanted a baby! We wanted our daughter. We wanted Norah. I have plenty of angels watching over me, my grandparents, my dad, my uncle...I didn't need another, least of all our daughter.
