To My Acquaintances Who Did Not Hear:
This is for all of you who see me regularly but are not my friends, to those who knew I was pregnant but have not heard from me or anyone close to me since I disappeared, and to those who know I was on maternity leave. To all of you, please know that no matter how hard it is for me to hear your congratulations, know that I want to tell you about my baby. I want to tell you that, yes, I did have a baby. He was alive; he has a name. I also want to tell you that he died when he was six weeks old. I want to tell you his story, just maybe not today.
Today hearing your congratulations just makes me want to cry. It reminds me that, while yes, I did have a baby, he is no longer here. In place of congratulations, I am receiving condolences. Maybe I will tell you that he died, or maybe someone else will take you to the side to tell you. Please do not take that as a hint not to talk to me about it after. Maybe you feel sorry for me but I know that I did everything I could to help him live. I know that the doctors did their best.
My baby was real; he existed and was alive in this world for six weeks but he will never grow up to be a child. I want to tell you about his disease, I want to tell you how he died. Like I said maybe not today but that doesn’t mean I want you to ignore the fact that I had a baby. Please do not ignore my baby’s existence.
Follow my lead, maybe today I want to talk about him and maybe it’s too hard for me. Maybe today I’m having a good day and maybe today I just want to cry. Sometimes I am good at pretending everything is really OK. Other days I will say I am OK but you can see in my eyes and hear in my voice that I am really not OK.
One more thing, mainly to those I interact with at work, my clients’ parents and the bus staff. I see you almost every day. You know I was gone, you knew I was pregnant. You put two and two together. Now that you know the end of the story, because unfortunately there is an end, show me how you can connect.
For the parents, your children are disabled; they cannot take care of themselves and will never live alone. Many of you know the fear of having a hospitalized baby or child. Many of you know the fear that your child could die. Please be grateful your child survived and show me that you know what that fear is. Show me that you understand how I mourn my hopes for my baby. Yes, your child lived but I am sure you mourned your hopes and dreams for them as well. Connect with me even though my baby died. We probably had many similar experiences.
To the bus staff, you asked me when I was due and you greeted me warmly on my return. When you find out that my baby died, know that I loved him and, no matter what, wanted him to live. Know that some days will be hard for me and I may no longer return your greeting, or I will return it with tears in my eyes. Know that I am just remembering my baby.
To all of you, please remember that I had a baby, but remember that I also lost my child. Remember that I am mourning the death of my baby who was only with us for a short time. I never got to take him home. The only time he ever left the hospital was for an ambulance ride to transfer to a new hospital, and I could not even go with him. I never bathed my baby, fed my baby, or was truly alone with him. I did, however, love him and do everything I could for him, just like any parent. Do not forget that I had a baby; do not forget that I am a mother.
______________________________________________________
Kimberly is 23 years old and works with adults with special needs. She has a B.S. in Special education and firmly believes every person should be given the chance to reach their potential. Her baby was born at 35 weeks and died when he was 6 weeks old. He was diagnosed with a condition called Infantile Myofibromatosis and died from side effects of anesthesia during emergency surgery. She is on a mission to “un-taboo” the topic of baby loss and to spread awareness for her son’s condition and everything parents of sick babies have to deal with. Her blog is avislegacy.wordpress.com
- Infertility vs Cancer - April 19, 2021
- Loss is Not a Dirty Word - December 7, 2020
- What I Wish I Could Tell the Non-Loss Community - November 17, 2020