My Dear Sweet Turner,
It has been 26 weeks since our last perfect day together. A lot has happened since I last wrote to you. Too much to recall and my heart has been heavy. September has proved to be another hard month that seems to be the trend lately. I’ve noticed that the more time that goes on the more time I realize since I’ve last held you. Felt the weight of you in my arms.
The fact that I have given birth at fullterm and am somehow suppose to be “ok” with not having you in my arms. I don’t know how to describe to people the torture of what that feels like to live with everyday. To carry you for 9 months fully expecting to be able to take care of you outside of me because there wasn’t anything wrong with you. Sailing along so wonderfully and then in a second my whole world shattered and I’m left with absolutely nothing.
I think back all the time to the day my world ended. I honestly don’t know how in the world I survived that trauma because that is literally what it was. I don’t know how anyone survives that. There are moments where I feel like they forgot to bury me with you that day because I died that day too. Never to be the same again. I try my hardest every single day to not wallow in my grief, but it is constantly there. A huge invisible wound no one but myself can see.
Last week I was able to go out with a sweet girlfriend of mine to dinner and a movie. My friend, E, and I talked about you for a long time during dinner. We talked a lot about umbilical cord accidents, as she almost lost her baby boy during labor due to a prolapsed cord. Thankfully she was in the hospital when they broke her water and were able to get her baby boy out during an emergency c-section. I have met some moms that have lost their babies this way. Having their water break at home only to find out their baby had passed away from a prolapsed cord whike in the way to the hospital. She wants to help me in whatever way she can and she has been phenomenal to me. Always listening and sharing her thoughts and providing unconditional love and support. Her beautiful baby boy is 2 months older than you. He is always smiling and such a joy to see. Babies who are older than what you should be don’t bother me to be around as much.
The rest of the week has been difficult. I haven’t slept well since you passed away and I notice my body beginning to fatigue. Luckily, I have had several friends who have helped me this week either provide dinners to our family or who have just listened to me when I needed someone to talk to.
With your Dad gone it is pretty lonely around here. I’m with your siblings all day long, which I love and am hugely blessed for, but I can go days without a single adult conversation, except maybe the 5-10 minutes I get to speak with your Dad on FaceTime. Seeing his face and hearing his voice warms my soul.
I am anxiously waiting for him to get home and be able to melt into his arms again. I need his love and support more than he could ever understand. He has been my rock since you passed away and I don’t know what I would do without him. He loves you Turner so much and misses you tremendously. We both hope we can live our lives in a way that would reflect the love we have for you and the blessings you have given us.
I am usually really strong when I go and visit you each night. I don’t cry at your grave often because I am just comforted knowing I am close to your physical body. Knowing all of my children are near me since tour brothers and sisters come with me each night. Andrew always gives you a hug and a kiss. He gently hugs the dirt and then blows a kiss while saying, “I love you baby Turner”. On Tuesday it hit hard when I left and said my goodbyes to you as I do each night. When I placed my hand on the dirt that rests above you, I just cried. I felt awful for not being able to save you, not being able to do anything to save you. The overwhelming guilt no longer consumes me each day, but I’m so very angry about the senselessness of it all. That my healthy baby died from an accident. An accident that no one saw coming.
Tonight while I went to pick up some books on coping with the death of a child, the librarian just looked at me and said, “Can I just say how very sorry I am?” A complete stranger began to cry. She figured out that I had lost a child based off the books I requested for an interlibrary loan. She walked around the desk and just gave me a big hug. We both cried together. An act of compassion shown to a stranger, to a grieving mother, meant so much to me. Most strangers who find out you passed away quickly want to leave the conversation. They don’t embrace…they flee.
Not this woman. She embraced me. Held me and cried with me. And I could feel her love and heartbreak in her hug. That is an experience I won’t soon forget. One mothers heart helping carry another mothers heart in my time of need. It’s moments like that which help keep me afloat. Someone not trying to fix me or make me feel better with words, but rather just loves and embraces me and experiences this heartache with me. She must be an amazing person. I need to find out her name.
My sweet boy, I miss you and love you so much. Help guide me in the way my heart needs to find healing. Help guide our family in knowing how to carry on without you hear while always remembering you. I love you baby boy
Love Always and Forever,