My dear sweet Turner,
It’s been 11 weeks since the last perfect day you were in my belly before you passed away. 11 very long weeks since I last felt your little feet kicking my ribs and your little hands somehow feeling like they were touching my hip bones. 11 weeks since I was blissfully living life eagerly waiting for your arrival and enjoying every second of being pregnant with you. 11 weeks since I knew you were safe and warm and I just knew somehow you felt the overwhelming love I had for you. 11 weeks since I was so very unaware of how my life and world would completely shatter and change once this Thursday was over.
I’ve decided that Thursdays are our perfect day together since that was our last time we spent with each other. Thursday is the only day I have that isn’t filled with memories I wish I didn’t have to replay over and over again on a loop that never seems to end. I’ve decided that Thursdays I will write a letter to you so you can know just how very much I love you and what your family is doing here on earth and what you have been doing to.
Thursday March 23, 2017, the last day I had with you perfectly tucked in my womb, was so perfect. I heard your heartbeat at my midwife appointment for 20 solid minutes. Your beautiful perfect heartbeat. I loved hearing that sound each time I had my appointment. I wish I could hear it still and feel your little heartbeat in your chest. I also wish you could hear mine while I held you close to me laying on my chest.
Today I went to the gym and another two people congratulated me on finally giving birth to you. They are completely unaware of the huge atomic bomb that follows their “congratulations” when I have to explain that you have passed away. It physically hurts having to explain this and then watch someone who was so excited for me have the color drain from the face because they are shocked to hear that response. No one ever expects to hear that response when they congratulate a pregnant woman on having her baby. Then they of course apologize for asking. My immediate response is, “please don’t apologize for congratulating or asking a very pregnant lady, who clearly isn’t pregnant anymore, if she had her baby. It’s the appropriate thing to do and say. Babies aren’t suppose to die.”
It’s been so hard and so good going to the gym. Hard because I so enjoyed having you in my belly as my little workout buddy. I felt empowered being so strong while pregnant. I really embraced my pregnant body this time. I loved my curves and my big belly. What a gift you have given me Turner, to finally love my body and what it can do. Thank you my sweet boy.
It’s also hard being there because everyone knew I was pregnant with you. Everyone was so very impressed that I was still working out. I had complete strangers always encouraging me. People I probably would have never have talked to all because of your life. It crushes me every time I have to explain your passing to people.
Being at the gym has been so helpful at the same time because it’s like therapy for me. I can go there and take out all my frustrations, anger, and sadness over you not being here. I’m slowly but surely gaining my strength back. I think you’d be proud of me, Turner. I have also found out that running on the treadmill and crying doesn’t quite workout very well. I have cried almost everyday being at the gym. I try to keep to myself, wear my hat really low on my head, and always making sure my headphones are on, but almost everyday I’m there someone asks me about you. Don’t get me wrong I want to talk about you, but having to say over and over again that you passed away…it hurts. It hurts really bad.
I had a wonderful conversation today with one of my gym friends, Sharon. She is the sweetest woman and has had some trails in her life as well. She gave me some very helpful advice on how to handle people and some comments that I have received that haven’t been helpful. I know people mean well and they have the best intentions, but some things which have been said to me hurt so bad to hear. I sincerely hope she knows I appreciate her taking the time to just be with me in that moment and not try to fix my pain. That she had the capacity to provide empathy and is mourning with me over your death. I can’t thank her enough.
Andrew, Scout and I went to Sam’s Club after the gym just to pick up a couple items and to eat lunch. It seems everywhere I go there are either very very pregnant ladies, newborns or 1-2 month olds everywhere. Right around every corner, babies that are the age you’re suppose to be. Right now seeing any of these ladies or babies hurts so badly. I literally have to turn and walk the other way, or turn my head so I don’t see them up close. It pains me to know that I no longer look at pregnant women or infants with the utter adoration I used to have. Seeing these little tiny babies hurts so badly I can’t even describe the pain I have deep inside. It’s like someone has ripped into my chest and is taking my heart out of my body. It’s hurts to the depth of my soul. I want what they have so badly and for you to be here with me. For me to be holding you in my arms. For me to be smelling your little head. I’m honestly very happy these people don’t know this pain. It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It’s the kind of pain you had no idea any living person could feel until you’re deep in the midst of its clenches. It’s a pain so deep you feel like you’re drowning but there is no water in site. It’s hurts every part of your body and soul.
Today while at your grave I read you the children’s book, “Love you Forever”. The author of this book knows the pain I feel each day. He wrote this book after he and his wife had two babies die before birth. I’ve read this book to your brothers and sisters when they were little, but the words have such new meaning to me now. Tears flowed constantly down my face with each word I read. I desperately wanted to just be able to rock you in my arms, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, just as this author described. I desperately want to have the opportunity to watch you grow. To watch you have a family of your own one day. To know that I’ll never experience with you any of what this author depicts is excruciating. While I read the sunset was beautiful. I always go out to be with you each night and the sun is just starting to set. It’s so peaceful out where you are. There is always this breeze gently going by and sometimes it feels like your arms are being wrapped around me with each breeze.
Please stay near me my son. To say I miss you doesn’t even accurately describe what I feel for you and wanting you here. Please visit me in my dreams. Please help me to understand how to really live again and not merely exist. Most importantly, please know how very proud I am that you are my son and I am your mom. I would do everything all over again in a heartbeat if it meant I could hold you, see you, and be with you even for just one second more. I love you my dear precious boy.
Love you always and forever,