MISS

I had another MISS Foundation support group meeting last night and I left feeling weird. I don't know exactly what that means, but this is how it all went down. 


I was able to, for the first time, get through my story without crying. I think it might have been because I have a short and condensed version since we had three new people there with us. I left and still did not cry. This sort of bothers me. 


Lately, I have felt so numb that there is nothing that could rock me. Yeah, I may get teary eyes about something. But for the most part I feel like I could get beaten by a mob and not feel a thing. This scares me. I feel disconnected from my feelings and from Sam. I should cry, crying keeps me in a reality check. I know, I know some of you are thinking, it's okay to not cry. For me it's not. This puts me in a place of anger and disconnect. 


I am feeling that I am on the outside looking in at this poor girl who gave birth to her son who never took a breath outside of her womb. I feel sorry for this girl and wish she didn't have to live a life like this; a life filled with mausoleum visits and a constant need to honor her son that few have met. This girl is someone who is lost in a world of loss and grieving. A girl who will always live a life filled with "what if's". A girl who is forever changed by an angel she never got to tell him she loves him. A girl who would give her life to bring her son back.  That girl that I watch everyday is me walking in a life that I never thought I would live or try to live.






Maybe these feelings of numbness are a result of the much anticipated family gathering tomorrow. It will be the first gathering that I am attending with my husband's family. It would be such a big deal if a cousin did have a baby boy one month after me. The only difference is she got to bring her baby home and lay him in a crib, I got to lay mine in a crypt. I don't know why, but it bothers me. Of course, this is no fault of her, but it is the unintentional slap in the face that I don't have my son in my arms. Just thinking about the baby noises he will make or the crying he will let out makes me sick to my stomach because those are the sounds that I miss and yearn for sooo badly. Silence haunts me. It is not the kind of silence like you may think. Silence to me is something so much more. Silence to me is not hearing my Sam cry or make those cute little grunting noises that infants do. Hearing another baby do that in place of mine is earth shattering and crippling. It immediately puts me back to May 9, 2011, in a delivery room filled only with silent tears as my son slipped into this world only to have never entered it. It puts me in the silent delivery room where a hopeful 3 year old enters only to be told her brother is an angel. 
It's the sound that haunts me...




Okay, with Saturday in mind I would like all of my fellow blog followers to join me in National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day and honor Sam by lighting a candle. I will be taking part in a balloon release in South Elgin given by the MISS Foundation and the Sweet Pea Project. Should you participate in remembering all of the babies lost to the unknowns of Stillbirth, please take a picture and send it to me. I would love to make a collage of the candle pictures that you guys send. For me it would be a reminder that Sam's birth has not gone unnoticed and he continues to make in impact on this secret society of Babyloss.


Never forget our babies that were born angels...

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