an unexpected letter

Dear Madelyn,

It's been a long time since I wrote you outside of your birthday. When you first left us, I needed to write you. It was a way to heal. But as I've healed, I haven't needed it. Tonight, I do.

Tonight is the first time I really understand the word "triggered." I was scrolling through Facebook when a big picture of a 35 week stillborn popped up. A girl in a mom group I'm in shared it. My stomach immediately seized up. I went through the comments (because I like to be mean to myself), and saw more stories and more pictures. I felt sick. Tears immediately filled my eyes. It's crazy to me that even after all this time, the loss of you can hit me like a ton of bricks. It can take my breath away. It can break all the rules of time and send me right back to 2013, standing in your empty nursery in the dark, crying like I never cried before. Maybe time heals all wounds, but it leaves scars that can be ripped open at any time. 

I am at such a happy place in my life. I've got my dream job as a stay-at-home mom, I love where we live, your daddy is almost done with school, we have lots of time together, I have wonderful friends and family.. I have so many blessings. So much to be thankful for. Most days I don't feel the absence of you. (Which results in lots of random spurts of guilt, but that's for another post.) But when I do, I feel it hard. It's nearly impossible not to look at my friend's 3-year-olds and think that I should have one too. It's hard not to look at pictures of Jack, Sadie, and me, and realize it's not actually a picture of me and my all my kids. Someone is missing. So many moments, so many milestones, so many kisses and hugs and cuddles stolen from me. Will I ever not feel that loss?

Life has gone on without you. I feel a million miles away from the girl who grieved so hard, she wondered if she'd ever be happy again. I live in a different world now. You aren't in the forefront of my mind every day. It's been a relief to feel whole and good again, but that makes things complicated. I have to learn how to healthily remember and miss this person whom I love with all my heart, but have never actually met. Besides your sweet kicks and rolls, you were never actually part of my daily life. I didn't have to change the way I lived, but change the way I thought I would live. It's complex and confusing- being mother to a baby who never took a breath. It's hard to reconcile my love for you with my new life as a busy mother to two babies here on earth.

I'll be honest in saying that April 13, 2013 shifted the entire course of my life. You came and you left and you changed everything. It wasn't until recently that I admitted to myself, and to your father, just how deep the cracks left on that day still run in my heart and mind. (To be honest, I probably need to talk to a therapist, but I will just keep talking to you and see if it helps.) I might not grieve or cry anymore, but I am not as light and happy as before. I don't always feel like my real self. It's something I am working on. I can see many pieces of my old self coming back. Some will take more time. Some may never come. Your loss shattered the foundation I stood on, but I don't want you to feel bad. It was my overwhelming love for you that ended up breaking my heart. And I will never regret how much I love you.

My thoughts are scattered tonight, but that's usually how it is when I slip back into the role of the grieving mother. I guess what I want you to know is that even though life is so different and busy and full, I still love you and miss you. And I am trying to figure out how to balance that love without forgetting you, or letting it consume me into sadness. Your sweet brother and sister would love you so much, and my heart aches a little when I imagine how it would be if you were here to play with them. I know you're here with us from time to time though. I may never have a picture of me with all my children, but I am thankful for the things I have learned over these 3 short years without you. I am thankful to have loved someone so much, that my heart still aches. I am thankful to have you watching over your brother and sister.

So when I tuck Sadie into bed at night, I will think about you watching over her since her room is so far away from ours, and I am sure you know how much that worries me. And when I begrudgingly wake up in the middle of the night to nurse Jack, I won't think about how I never got to nurse you, but how you're probably laughing at how grumpy I am without sleep, and how gross my mom bun is. And when I look at pictures of Jack, Sadie, and me, I'll count my blessings for the babies I have here with me, and for the baby I'll get one day.

I love you, I miss you, I'll see you soon.

Love always,
               your mama