We are just three months out and thinking about TTC again. What I am afraid of, one of the many things I am afraid of, is that the next child will in fact become a replacement child, that with time my son will fail to mean as much to me as he does now. That in 40 years, when my living children are grown and I have lived a long life, I will no longer count him among my children. Just because that is what time does, it erases.

We have an uncle and aunt now in their late 60's who have 4 living children, and in between one of those, a baby they lost at 5 months. I know that they grieved intensely for that baby at the time, but I doubt that that baby has as much significance to them now as their living ones.

And how is it, that the grief is worse and more consuming now, than it was when he first died?

I accidentally conceived first cycle after my miscarriage.

It was a horrible, panicky pregnancy - I was scared all the time. I had some trouble bonding with my son when he was born, but there were some other issues as well - failed induction so I had an emergency c-section, they yanked him away for kidney testing and things pretty well as soon as he came out, kept pulling him out of my room, etcetera - and it took me about six months to really attach to him. Didn't forget my first baby. In fact, I got to where I was crying when I was trying to do things like put together my son's baby book.

Sadly, my family's response was basically to tell me to lock it up, quit grieving, you've got a living child to take care of now. So I'm getting hit with a double whammy. And still, it's really like I'm the only one who remembers that baby, I was supposed to be 14 weeks and he/she had stopped growing at about 6 weeks. They took "the tissue" away at the hospital so we had no remains to bury, there's never been anything on that. Even now, when we're laying out the cemetery for Aeryn's grave, there's no mention of that first baby.

The nursery fabric we had purchased was reused for my son. Nothing that was being gotten ready for that baby was saved for that baby, it all got pulled out and used for my son. I really sort of regret that now. Financially, it's all we could do, but rather than my son feeling like a replacement, it just felt like we erased the first baby.

So I don't know if that sheds light on anything or if that just further muddies the waters. Have you thought about perhaps talking to your aunt about this if you'd be comfortable with that?

Oh, as far as the grief being worse - I think it's all ebb and flow. Right now I'm kind of in that numb place again. One of the books I was reading on grief says basically you cycle in and out of the worst of it because your body gets exhausted and is trying to rest itself, then you start feeling better, so then your grieving process almost starts over time and again. I don't know how to help you, because I'm swimming in the same sea right now, all I can do is help you watch for sharks.

I don't think a mother could EVER forget her child. EVER. Have faith that your child would want you to move on and be the mother you always wanted to be. There are no replacement children and give yourself time to bond - it's not always instantaneous. Talk to someone who understands and don't feel guilty.

I am about eight months out now, and we are just beginning to talk about trying again, so I have little direct support to give you on the role of your first child. I do, however, have a dear friend whose older sister died at 6 weeks more than 40 years ago. My friend mentions her every so often, marks birth dates or age, usually in reference to a conversation with her mother. More than 40 years later, she still grieves her daughter, still gets choked up sometimes, still gets teary thinking of her. As close as I am to that family (I call her mother Mom H), I can only recall a few mentions of her sister in my presence.

You son will always be with you, I think, and I think you will always feel his absence. I don't know how to ensure the distinction between children, though I'd like to imagine that it would come naturally, as you get to know your next child as an individual.

Thinking of you.

Thank you all for your thoughts and replies. It is just one of many the reasons I come here.

We have a 3.5 yo daughter who says, "Even though Duncan does not live, he is still part of our family," I often feel that our grief has a purpose in assuring his spirit that what our daughter says is true. That he is loved, was wanted, and is sorely missed.

But I wonder whether in the same way that our connection to him will probably fade over time, whether his essence as a spirit will also dissipate, and our remembrance of him will no longer have meaning for him, or holding value.

We are four months out and thinking of going thru IVF again and I've been thinking a lot about this. The first thing that came to mind though is 2 other babylost mamas I know. One lost her son 9 years ago and another lost her son 50 years ago. With both of them, the sons they lost are celebrated and woven into the fabric of their families. I guess my feeling is that it's what you do with your babylost's story and memory. I agree with an above writer that you never forget your children and you choose what you share with your next children and how you incorporate their memories. That being said, I am very anxious about how I will do that.

Our first baby died at about 6 months. I'm due again in December. I have never worried about this new baby being a replacement, but I have worried about how to keep by son part of our family for children who will never have met him. I watch other people who have done this and believe that I will find some way that feels right to do this too. Right now, I'm facing the birth of my baby within days of the anniversary of my son's death. I want to be able to welcome this new baby, to be joyful about his or her arrival--and to be able to care for him or her properly at a time when I expect life will feel very dark and heavy.

I don't believe my son's life will be erased by time. Certainly the role he plays in my life will be quite different. I have six months of memories of him. He will now grow beyond those six months, and there are so many things he will never experience. Hopefully, I will have many, many years of memories with other children. They will not erase Henry's life, but it will be different to have memories of who a child has been in comparison to who they have become, to have memories that I can talk about and share with the child, to have memories that continue to be made.

Three months was a hard time. Much of the numbness that had protected me for the first month or so had worn off completely. There were other things going on in our family that threw our loss into relief. I felt completely mired in grief. I know that grieving takes a long time and that grief does not move along a one-way track, but I'm still dismayed when I feel like I've slid back deeper into the hole. Right now I'm a little over 8 months out. It comes in waves with some moments unbearable and others manageable. Sometimes I know what triggers a bout of weeping or deeper sadness and other times I don't. This pregnancy has been challenging emotionally. It has given me hope, but also a lot of anxiety. I can't help sometimes but to compare this pregnancy to my last. And through it all, I'm still grieving, still processing the many ups and downs of my son's life and his death.

I have found it helpful to talk to other people who have had children after they lost a child. I know I will have to find my own way, but talking about my anxiety, seeing how others have dealt with specific aspects of it has been helpful.

Niobe, that is a beautiful idea. I would love that to be the case for you, as well as for us. I dont see how that is any more or less irrational than a general belief in spirits.

It has been 6 and a half years since my daughter was stillborn at 35 weeks. I have a 5 1/2 year old daughter and a 2 1/2 year old son. I love all my children more than I thought my heart could ever hold. My second daughter was born 1 year to the day that my first daughter died. I, too worried that she would be my replacement. But she never has been. She is very much her own person. And maybe I have made up in my heart who Isabel would have been, but it's always felt like I knew who she was. She was herself. On most days I can talk about her with a smile. I tell people about her, even if it makes them uncomfortable. I tell of her beautiful red hair and her long lashes. How I was so sure she was a boy. I think of her a lot. And mostly with joy. And then there are days like today. For no reason, 6 and a half long years later, I miss her terribly. I can't stop the tears. I held my two living children today and said many thankful prayers into their sweet heads. But, My God, I still miss my baby. My living children are such joy to me, but they have not replaced Isabel and, though it may happen, I can't believe that I will ever stop missing her. The hard part is talking about it after so many years. There is no one to tell. No one to call and say "I miss her today." I mean, people were telling me to "get over it" after 6 weeks, never mind 6 years. I suspect that may be the reason you don't hear about it.

I can promise you your sweet little son will never be forgotten, he will never be replaced, and he will always be yours. Will you always count him? I'm sure you will. Will you always talk openly about him with those around you? Depends on your and the circumstances. All I can tell you is what I've learned from my own personal experiences.

I have three children. My first was stillborn and I broke inside. I too felt I would forget her and stop loving her if I ever had another child. For that reason I had a portion of me that wanted to never have another child. But somewhere else there was this need in me to focus the love I Had for her on another child. NOT to fill in the gap she left in the dead center of my heart, just somewhere to put my love and attention so I felt it wasn't going to waste.

For years I found other things to focus on because we had miscarriage after miscarriage after miscarriage. I couldn't find myself around other people's children so that wasn't possible for me. I ached too much for myself. BUT THEN my next two kids came into my life.

How has my life changed in regards to my oldest child? I talk about her more. I teach my kids that they have an older sister. I find I think of her more. I love her more. I appreciate the lessons she taught me more. My subsequent kids have come no where close to taking the place of my first baby girl, but they did give me someone to smother with love and kisses that were lingering in the air. They have given my life purpose in a way that it hasn't for so long. They have brought more joy and happiness back into my life. And with all that I cry more, wishing I was toting along one more, missing my oldest daughter, wondering more of what she would be like and knowing what I really missed out on.

It is a fine dance my three children have created in my life. She is still very much a part of the steps involved and will be until the day I die.

I dont know whether this is a factor of being newly bereaved, but I find it so wonderful, as well as more than slightly intimidating, that so many of you with loss have such expansive and insightful perspectives on death and grief. For me, I find I have very little to say on the subject most days, or that there is too much to say, and I am too weary.

It has less to do with my original post as just a reflection on your responses here. One day I hope to be a in place where I can look back, and coherently articulate a piece of wisdom, or words of solace, or perspective, on my son's death that redeems this pain.