Two Years Gone

October 21, 2022
26w2d

Last year, someone asked if I had “closure” with it being the 1-year anniversary of Raya’s birth & death.

I did not.

And for the record, being pregnant on the 2nd anniversary also doesn’t give you “closure” on losing your first child.

“Closure” isn’t a thing.

“Moving on” isn’t a thing.

There’s moving forward.

There’s watching the hard days get fewer & further between.

There’s cautious happiness & contentment you never thought you’d see again.

But there’s also thoughts of your next child never getting to meet your first.

There’s seeing your favorite pair of young sisters & knowing your two girls will never have their bond.

And there are really dark manic midnights & 4am’s when you stare at where the ceiling fan would be if the lights were on, debating if you can actually see the blades spinning in the dark or if you’ve finally lost your mind.

I’m terrified for the rest of this pregnancy.

The kind of “just under the skin” terrified where you’re worried but not enough for it to overflow out of your skin & into the air around you where everyone else can feel it.

Just worried enough for terror to beat out coffee for the only remaining consistency in life.

For you to pause when the red light turns green to avoid the risk of finding yourself hit by a car and back in a hospital bed.

Clinging to your stomach, begging another child not to leave you.

Then you find yourself face to face with your husband having to rip his servant heart to pieces once more because you failed again.

And you’re single because who could love someone that failed so terribly to bring them a child?

Then your hair is turning gray and you’re alone on a porch watching the lives of everyone around you flourish and their families grow, and your brother is on his fourth kid before you realize you’re still sitting in your car & the light has been green for days, but you haven’t moved because you’ve entranced yourself into oblivion & the very thought of hitting the gas pedal is too much to consider.

It’s a lot.

But the baggage is bundled so nicely & tied with a dusty rose-colored bow belonging to a sweet baby girl that will be here when the snow is falling to remind you that the notion of beauty falling with it isn’t impossible.

And that hearts are capable of loving those coming in as much as those that left too soon.