by Lisa Hand
There’s a special day that should have been our son’s birthday. It was his due date. But he passed at 28 weeks in utero in April 2014. So technically we already survived his first birthday in heaven but this date is still hitting me hard. I have another little boy’s first birthday party to attend. I’d like to skip it but this other little boy means a lot to me and I’m going to be brave so I can celebrate with him. I now think every birthday is worth being celebrated.
I can’t help but imagine what my sons birthday party would be like. I’d imagine it would be a big event, considering it took me almost five years to conceive him through reproductive assistance. He was/is my miracle baby.
There would have been a ton of balloons.
I think about what toys he would like as I skim through the aisles for this other little boy. Elmo? Thomas the Train? Mickey Mouse? I remind myself that these toys aren’t for him. There will never be toys for him. He will never get a birthday present. He will never get a birthday party.
I imagine his birthday outfit. Overalls? Superheroes? Maybe a onesie displaying the number “1” boldly across his chest? Would he be a barefoot kind-of-kid or would he prefer shoes? Velcro? Slip-ons? There will never be a birthday outfit. He will never graduate to big boy shoes.
Who would be there? Would his grandparents drive down from hundreds of miles away for the big day? Would all of the other babies born around his due date be there? Would he be walking, cruising along the furniture, still crawling? He will never have a guest list for his birthday. He will never proudly walk across the room to his mama.
This day is bringing an array of emotions to the surface. Yet above all, it brings a lot of wonder. I wonder who he would have been. I wonder who I would be if he were here. I wonder what celebrating my child’s first birthday would feel like.
He won’t be here to smash his first cake or open his first birthday present but I can assure you he will receive a ton of balloons. He is still my baby and I am still his mama.
So there will still be a ton of balloons.
Lisa Hand currently resides in Virginia with her loving husband. She is a military wife, blogger, lover of Christ, Certified Child Life Specialist, avid reader and graduate student pursuing her masters degree in professional counseling. Lisa is the proud mother of four angels, Faith, Hope, Jake & Harbor. Her journey to motherhood began with losing both Faith and Harbor to separate first trimester miscarriages in 2010 after a year of trying to conceive. It then took Lisa almost another 3 ½ years to conceive her next baby. She conceived Jake through IUI and lost him at 28 weeks due to an umbilical cord accident in utero. Jake’s passing has changed Lisa forever. Just four months later Lisa conceived again through IUI and lost Hope at 10 weeks. Both Lisa and her husband suffer with infertility. Lisa was diagnosed in December 2014 with MTHFR and Factor II-both genetic conditions make conceiving and carrying a baby to term difficult if untreated. They have spent this past year focusing on grieving, healing and recapturing hope. Lisa is an active member of Resolve and Share. Lisa is passionate about infertility and baby loss awareness. You can share her journey at Hope After Hope.
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Not only do we share the same name (Lisa!), but I also lost my miracle baby boy in April 2014 at 27 weeks. He took 4.5 years to conceive. I have Factor V. The compounding grief of infertility coupled with loss is devastating beyond words and proudly changes you. I just wanted to let you know that there’s someone out there with a similar story who’s heart is broken along side yours.