I wanted to write something eloquent to mark the birth of my lost baby. I wanted to write something that might give the women who have suffered or are suffering the utter confusion and darkness a miscarriage brings a glimmer of hope that they wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives in this very dark place. This pain that you’re feeling? The anger and urge to scream at an unjustness cosmos? It will fade. The urge to hide will lessen. You will never forget and the strangest things might bring you to tears at any given moment even years later, but there is a light. There are better days ahead.
I wanted to write something to let my girl know that there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of her in some way, that I don’t wonder if she’d have had her daddy’s lips or my eyes, if she would have been musically inclined…. I wanted to write something to let her know that we’re okay. From time to time I’ll look in my memory box- at the froggy onesie she didn’t get a chance to wear, at the small blanket great-grandma knitted her, at the ultrasound, and at the tiny footprint. I still cry, but most of the time I smile and remember her perfect feet and her perfect hands; I know that if it weren’t for her I wouldn’t have Olivia. From the darkest night was born the brightest joy.