1 week

 

A thank you note to my village.  I wrote this to them, but I want to put it here so I have it for me.  A record of this process.

Girls, this is me today.

I should be 23 weeks. But I'm not. I'm 1 week postpartum and it shouldn't be.

I remember how we all rallied around Debi when we lost Sydney. I say "we" because that's what it felt like. Like "we" lost a baby.

I remember thinking, "I can't imagine what that feels like.." And I honestly never thought I would. I didn't even know at that time if I'd be blessed with the opportunity to mother another child. And having never struggled with fertility as I know many others have..the thought of child loss seemed foreign.

But it not anymore. It's real and raw and sucks and makes me so fucking mad and sad and enraged.

But I have something other moms in my shoes don't often have. An amazing astounding virtual village.

And from the love the universe has provided me by way of all of you, by so many of you reaching out, texting, calling, messaging, sending me cards, gifts, reposting our story, reading the comments from your friends who've never even met me, I am being put back together somehow. Like Humpty Dumpty. All the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't help him, but my village both local and virtual can do it. I'll still have the cracks that will show, but I know I'll be whole again eventually.

So please consider this my "thank you note" to all of you. I'm sure Miss Manners would not approve, but...well frankly she can kiss my ass. There is no expression of gratitude large enough to explain how grateful I am for the love and support I've been shown.

Thank you so very much,
Nasrene

And to the "strangers" who read this, and commented, or messaged me, or shared their story, or commented on someone else's page or asked a mutual friend to reach out to me to pass along a message, or a note...to all of those moms and dads who've been through something similar and felt stifled like they didn't have a voice, or couldn't have a voice, or shouldn't have a voice.  To all of them, to Kia who lost Kallie while I was pregnant with Reece, to Kim and Brett who twin angels were also lost too early, to all of them, to everyone close to me or far from me who's shared a personal story or reached out and said, "I know EXACTLY how you feel. I've been there," thank you.  I am not brave, I am not courageous, I just can't be quiet.  I can't be silenced, I don't do quiet very well.  I have to talk. I have to get it out.  Cry it out.  Scream it out.  If not, I'll never be myself again.  And if my talking helps you heal your heart just the tiniest shred, if our story helps a loved one "deal" with a grieving parent, if our heartache helps a NICU nurse or social worker have a sliver more empathy, then THAT validates Reece's existence.

Thank you

Thank you 

Thank you

Infinite thank yous.