http://thecottonsocks.blogspot.com/2009/08/possibilities.html

I wrote that a year ago today.

I wondered idly, a year later, whether it was the 19th or 20th that we had had the ultrasound and I went to find out.

And god. Five days later I wrote that my son had been born the night before, and died shortly after.

I've been doing well. I've been so busy I can barely breathe. But I'm losing it right now. I'm in the new office and these people don't know and I'm trying so hard not to cry right now. It's overwhelming to relive that very brief moment of time when we thought we would be parents. So much fear and so many problems and for four days . . . it was perfect.

I'm grateful for that time, but oh. I miss my son. I miss that person and that optimism and hope. I wish I could stop there and not know what happened next. But it's all colored by that and the images in my mind are tinged with grief and a bit of despair at seeing the precipice looming before me in retrospect.

Oh Eliza, I'm here and I'm sorry. It's so painful to look back and miss the person you used to be, and the feelings of optimism, all now replaced with a broken person and heart, fear, frustration, pessimism, and anything else that is the opposite of where we used to be. (((hugs)))

Oh Eliza, I am so sorry. And if it helps at all, I have been there. There were three wonderful days between when the ultrasound tech told us everything was fine and we were having a boy until our doctor called and said there were some things the tech had missed and that we needed to come in. And while I wouldn't give back those three days, the last three really happy days I have had in a while, I do wish time would just stop there. I miss the person I was during those three days. So I know how you feel.

I hate this. I hate it for you, for me, for everyone here. I'm so sorry. xoxo

Oh, Eliza-- I am so sorry for how these harder-than-usual days can just knock us off our feet. And I was just saying to another baby-lost mama yesterday that I know so well that feeling of wanting to go back to that one moment, that rip in the time-space continuum where everything became “before” and “after,” and just freeze there until you can walk out not broken in half. Wishing you comfort and peace during these worst-of-already-bad times.

I'm thinking of you, your husband and Gabe today, Eliza. I wish so very much that this had worked out differently for you all.

Thinking of you, your husband, and Gabriel today Eliza. I'm sorry he isn't here with you.

I'm sorry, Eliza. I'll be thinking of you. I was a mother to a living child for 5 wonderful weeks. She was in the NICU, and I just wanted to bring her home. I fell deeply in love with her, and she died 2 days after I brought her home. I am grateful for that time of innocence and naivete. I am sorry that your precious son isn't here today. I know you love him with all of your heart.

Tuesdays is going to be rough.

Everything else going on has kept me from focusing on it, but we're so close. A year ago right now we were watching the dvd of the ultrasound, pausing it to look at Gabe more closely. I remember him sucking his thumb.

And a year ago we went shopping for clothes because we finally felt safe and believed we were going to be parents. I remember how happy we felt, and how light and how much relief and joking there was. I remember that impractical, teeny little newborn outfit - one of the very few we bought - that looked like my favorite shirt of Jason's and spreading it out on my belly and laughing about how he would ever be that big and that tiny. And how Gabe and Daddy could be matching.

I can remember how it felt to add stuff to the registry and finish it off, and marvel at how much stuff our little boy needed. I remember how I held up a pair of overalls and talked about how awesome they were for either sex and Jason's horror because he didn't know that little baby clothes have snaps in the legs so you can easily change diapers and he thought you'd have to take them off a squirming baby entirely. I remember the blankets and an outfit covered with chicks and how we laughed because we called Gabe our little chickie.

I can still remember and even feel how it felt when I laid on my stomach and read a book and how Gabe clearly didn't like it and was moving all around and I could feel him so clearly, a little foot there, a roll here, a full body wriggle.

And I remember reading Winnie the Pooh to him, the chapter where Pooh pretends to be a rain cloud for honey, and how he moved in me then, and I thought he liked it.

Four perfect, lovely, wonderful days between the day of the ultrasound and the possibilities and his birth. And God, I want to go back and stop it all and just let the world end then in those days when it was all so much simpler and our son was healthy and alive and my body hadn't failed us yet and I was a whole person.

I'm just aching right now.

Thinking of you, Eliza, that post was so heartbreaking. So full of hope and love. I think I find those before wishes and dreams so difficult in my own grief, because it was a time when the world was a totally different place. I wish there were some words to get you through the next few days, but just know we are here. Remembering Gabriel with you. xo

Thinking of you. There never seems anything else to say :(

Oh Eliza. The post that you've linked to just knocks the breath out of me. I'm glad that you had those precious four days but I know that it was so very far from enough. I wish that there had been more for you and Gabriel. I wish that something different had happened next.

Sadly our bodies are beyond our control. You didn't fail your son my dear. Not for a single second. I can feel so much love in your words and in the memories that you have shared here.

You, your husband and Gabriel are in my thoughts over these coming days. x

Thinking of you Eliza. I find it really hard to look back at photos of when I was pregnant but before our 20 week scan. It just hurts to remember how happy we were and knowing we can't get back there again.

Be kind to yourself and do whatever you need to to get through the next few days.

Maddie x

thinking of the three of you eliza and wishing things could have been different.
x

Eliza, I know this week will only get worse for you. I will be thinking of you and
Gabriel and wishing things were different for all of us.

Eliza, I'm so sorry Gabe isn't here and so desperately wish he were. Sending much love your way. The first anniversary is so very hard. xo

Eliza, I'll be thinking of you these next few days and remembering Gabriel. Sending hugs to you.

Thinking of the three of you, wishing Gabe was with you now.

We miss him so much too, honey. If I could do anything to bring him back to you, I would.

Love you.

Thinking of you today. I so wish he was here with you and I hope you guys find a way to make today bearable. xoxo

I'm late to the party on this one, but I wanted to send you my love. I know that grief, that desperate feeling, its hideous, I wish it would leave us all alone. Loving Gabriel, loving you.