I’ve been grumpy all day. Sometimes I am just grumpy. But as the day progressed, I realized that my grumpiness wasn’t really about the messes, or Hailee’s runny nose, or the heat, or whatever else I latched my grumpiness too. It’s really about my grief bubbling up and my attempt to resist it.

Today I think I just need to miss my baby boy. And as I let myself feel that, my grumpiness takes a back seat and I just let the tears come.

I stopped resisting my grief after I had my 35 week OB appointment today.

Everything continues to look good with our rainbow baby. My non-stress-test showed her heart rate having a lot variability and my OB checked my cervix and reported I am 1.5 cm dilated and 70% effaced. Having good news like this diminishes the fear of losing her, but lets a NEW fear in. As the reality of her impending arrival dawns on me and I realize I may actually get to have her, I am overwhelmed with the thought, “CAN I DO THIS AGAIN?”

My OB asked me how I was doing emotionally about this baby and I didn’t know how to respond. I don’t how I’m supposed to be emotionally! So I smiled and said, “Good, I think.” He smiled back and said, “As good as can be expected I imagine.”

As I drove home I started thinking about having this baby. What will my labor with her be like? Will it be fast like it was with Charlie? Will she come at 38 weeks like Charlie did? Do I really want to attempt a “natural” childbirth? Will she get her safe? Do we get to take her home? Will I jinx her if I buy a carseat? What kind of crib or cradle do we want for her in our room? These thoughts bring with them a certain level of excitement and anticipation.

But they also bring a sadness. I long to hold another my baby. To nurse her, love her, and kiss her head and cheeks. But I am also sad because not even another baby can fill the emptiness Charlie’s death created. I am deeply sad I can’t hold him in my arms or see his smile, laugh at his intense gaze, or hear his “mama cry.” I don’t get to sing to him or tell him how much I love him or feel him nuzzle into my shoulder. How I miss those little things!

I am deeply sad that we won’t have all our kids on earth at the same time. That there will never be complete family photos again. Or complete family moments. That people will see Hailee and her sister and make comments about “Two sisters! How perfect!” and not know that they have a brother too! And of course I’ll smile and say something polite like, “yeah, sisters are awesome” but inside I’ll probably be crying at the injustice of our loss.

I don’t think this sadness diminishes my gratitude for the ability to have another child. I think the hope, healing, and excitement of a rainbow baby naturally brings with it another level of grief; a level I am beginning to experience.

I have to say, while missing Charlie tonight doesn’t feel good in anyway, it is nice to let go of my grumpiness. As soon as I embraced my grief, as horrible as it is, I felt I could breathe. I felt the tears opening my soul and I’m letting myself just sit with the complexity of what is my experience now.



6 thoughts on “Grumpy

  1. Bridgette

    I’m so glad you figured out what your grumpiness was coming from, it was probably really good to let that emotion out. It seemed to be very healing! I can’t imagine the happiness/ anxiety of your beautiful Rainbow Baby coming, hang in there and keep shining as beautifully as you do.

  2. littleraskills

    I wish I were there to hold you and let you cry (sob!) into my shoulder. Be gentle with yourself – be patient and don’t expect so much. Your heart is broken – you’re living through unbearable pain that NO ONE else understands unless they’ve experienced it themselves. I’m happy you’ve connected with so many angel mommies – I’m sure the understanding you have of each others pain must bring you some comfort – to know that you aren’t alone in this deep, dark grief. I love you to pieces. Sending you a gigantic hug through cyberspace.

  3. I can relate right now to the “grumpiness” – which is actually grief. I had a dream of Link last night. We were feeding him new foods & he was being so cute & in my mind I thought “Oh – I love him! It was all a mistake that we lost him! He’s fine.” But when I woke up, he was not here. And my arms were empty again. And the hope that I long for seems slippery and fleeting.
    I am so excited for your new baby girl. Watching you embrace the hope of her – and at the same time acknowledge that she won’t “fix” your loss of Charlie – brings ME hope and comfort 🙂

  4. Julie

    Just sending a hug– letting you know I’m thinking of you. Wishing that you could have your precious little boy in your arms– here on earth. Excited to “meet” your little girl soon! Did my email go through ok?

  5. Annie

    Still think of you and your family often, especially lately since I’ve been wondering if the new baby has made her arrival yet. I hope she will be a source of joy and healing to you.

    Also, this post came to me on a day when I really needed to acknowledge some of my own grief. I am always grateful for your willingness to share!

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