A letter to the old, pregnant me from my new grieving, loving, emotional self:
Dear Kelly,
I know you are consumed with worry right now. You are afraid this pregnancy will turn out like the first when you did not come home carrying a child in your arms. Instead you spent hours in the bathroom delivering your baby amongst a pool of blood and pain. You are so very scared that will happen again.
I know that the fear has left you afraid to embrace the joys of your current pregnancy. I know you are worried about growing too attached to your offspring. I know you think that somehow you can distance yourself from the life blossoming inside you because you are afraid you will lose that life. And you think that you can somehow guard your heart from pain. I know you are trying to protect yourself.
Please, please, Kelly, let that worry and that fear be a guiding force, but do not let it rob you of the joys of pregnancy.
I implore you — trust that worry. Let it guide you to the doctor’s office. Don’t be afraid to be annoying. You know your body better than anyone. If you feel like something is wrong, it probably is. Complain to the doctors about the symptoms you are experiencing. Who cares if they think you are crazy? You are just doing your job — you are trying to protect yourself and your baby.
When you start cramping and they tell you it is only a UTI, demand further investigation. When they tell you to go on bed rest, do so. Don’t let the worries of work and missed deadlines derail you from your most important job at the moment — growing your offspring. Call off work, stay in the hospital longer than the doctors want to keep you, follow up with your doctor when you know something is not right. Because you will bear a lifetime of regret and what-ifs when you downplay your fears.
But don’t let the worries preoccupy you. You are pregnant. Enjoy every moment you have with the son you are growing inside of you. Although you do not yet know it, you will not be able to share a lifetime of memories with him. Instead, you will only have 105 days with him — days when you saw him bouncing around on the ultrasound, days when you heard his little heart beat rapidly, days when you saw evidence of his growing body. Relish those days, cherish those moments. Let yourself love this little human with your whole heart. Tell him how much you love him. Read books to him. Rub your growing belly as often as you can. Let yourself smile with the joy and hope that he brings.
Because when you lose him, it won’t hurt less when you don’t allow yourself to experience the joy. No, you will only wish you had loved him more while he was here. You will realize your immense love for him when you hold his tiny, still, perfect body in your hands. So, please, show him how much you love him now, while he is here with you.
You will use lessons from this pregnancy in the future. When you get pregnant for a third time, you will whisper your love to the child every night before bed. You will sleep with your hands crossed over your belly, trying to protect the child growing inside. You will love without abandon. You will allow yourself to hope and dream, even though you know what could happen.
And when the bleeding does start, three days after you find out you are pregnant, you will rush to the hospital. You will not care if doctors think you are crazy for coming this early in the pregnancy. It is worth it if they can save the child growing inside you. Your third pregnancy will end in another miscarriage. But you will have no regrets this time. You have grown stronger.
Dear Kelly, I want you to know that you will endure more suffering than you thought you could withstand. There are times that you don’t know how you can survive another day. But you will. You will go on. You will learn how to make meaning of this new life that was thrown at you. And you will continue to love, to hope and to dream. For yourself and for all of your children.
Love,
Kelly
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