Understanding

Losing a baby is hard enough to explain, but when it happens twice it is just unfathomable. In just this last week, I've read about two BLMs that have lost their rainbow babies.  I've followed their stories since I lost Oliver and have gotten to know them through their blogs.  We were all on the early grief journey together and their blog posts mimicked my exact emotions.  I rejoiced in the news of their pregnancies, but now to read about them losing their babies, for the second time, is just beyond devastating.  It doesn't make sense and again reiterates that none of us are immune to the pain. 

Since becoming a part of this community almost a year ago, I've become aware of just how difficult the road to motherhood is.  All of us are mothers, whether or not we have lost babies or they are here in our arms, but obviously our ultimate goal is to have healthy children here on Earth.  I know how lucky I am to already have a healthy almost two year old while there are still so many of my fellows mamas that are just waiting for their turn.  As I've written about before, it is difficult to see those women who take every part of pregnancy and motherhood for granted.  Those women who are lucky enough to never have an issue, a scare or a devastating loss to know just what they have everyday smiling back at them. 

I'm beyond grateful to be sitting here almost 33 weeks pregnant, but that fear still seeps in.  Yes, I will always worry about my children.  Once he is born in 8 weeks, there will be SIDS to worry about and the thousands of other ways loved ones can be taken from us.  Pregnancy loss though is so different.  I am his protector and the one who gets to be with him 24 hours a day.  Feel every kick, stretch and hiccup. And knowing that I'm nearing full term and he would be completely healthy to enter the world, makes me worry about every day he spends in my womb, a potential death trap.  While I don't know if Oliver's death was a flaw with my body or with his, it is my responsibility to protect my children in those 40 weeks.  And it is terrifying to have no control over that protection.  It doesn't make me feel better that I have a less than 1% chance of anything happening to him because that doesn't matter. All that matters is that he arrives, breathing and healthy in 8 weeks.

I have the highest of hopes that he will be safe and be in my arms soon enough.  I'll know how amazing it is to have two healthy and living children in my arms.  I'll be grateful for the gift of being a mother to children who I can look at everyday and tell them that I love them.  I know we will never understand why the journey is devastating and filled with so little hope for so many mothers.  Why must some of us endure the tragedy while others take it all for granted?  Tonight my heart is heavy for my fellow BLMs who have recently lost their rainbow babies. The hope they had worked so hard to keep despite the odds has been shattered into a million pieces.  So to all of those with babies quietly tucked in bed and dreaming in the other room, myself included, remember what you have.