It's been a while since I've put my feelings about the loss of you down on paper, a while since I have written to you, as I used to do all the time. Realising that fills me with guilt. I'm sorry. I'm sorry my sweet girl.
So where am I now? It's difficult to say, difficult to know. I'm sitting here now, your little brother asleep in my arms and I'm happy. I'm happy. How can that be? I'm happy that he's here, happy he arrived safely (after a bumpy start), happy the wait for him is over, happy because he was worth every second of worry, he was worth every tear. I'm happy I have your big sister and your Daddy, happy we are all together, happy because I love my little family. And for that I feel guilty. Guilty that you might feel left out, loved less, forgotten - replaced. None of that is true, it never could be, yet still the guilt persists.
I'm happy, yet I'm still sad. Often when I'm alone, or just before I sleep, the familiar ache of your loss fills my chest. When I give in and cry, when I feel the pain, when I wonder and regret ~ what would you look like now? What would you feel like in my arms? What would you sound like? Why didn't I undress you again? Why don't I remember what you tummy looked like? Your legs? Your bottom? ~ when I am overcome with grief and sadness, I feel guilty again. Guilty because I know I'm blessed, guilty because I should be happy.
Guilty because I am, guilty because I am not.
Right where I am now is learning to navigate a baby after loss. Learning to navigate life again. With you and without you. Our little family of five.
My Grace you are loved. You will forever be loved. Please know that.
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