It will be four years in November that we lost our precious first born, Larissa, to full-term stillbirth. The loss of a child is a loss so deep that only another parent whom has lost a child can truly relate to that pain. Time doesn't lessen the pain, rather one builds a hard exterior to it. But that pain is carried by me daily. I experience that pain whenever my two living children hit a milestone, celebrate a birthday, make me smile or even when they frustrate me. But sadly, and more irritating than anything, I feel that pain and re-live my own loss with the birth of every newborn around me. It's certainly not because I feel resentment or jealousy toward any of the proud new parents, but because it's different for me.
When a new baby enters this world, I have flashbacks to the night I was scheduled to be induced with Larissa. Visions of the nurse frantically searching for the familiar 'swish, swish, swish' of life inside me as we heard the dreaded words 'there's no heartbeat.' Words and a night I put in a 'safe' place. A place created by me where I tucked that horrific, life changing night, for it to somehow rear it's ugly head every time a new parent welcomes their screaming bundle.
It's almost four years and I've had two more children since then, so people no longer protect me. I'm subjected to the excitement one would naturally feel as a friend, acquaintance and/or family member gives birth and everyone excitedly discusses the details of the birth and admires the new photos. I look and I discuss. Dare I say I'm even happy for the new parents? I am happy for them, but I'm so very sad. With every discussion regarding a new birth and every photo shared, I flashback to the first night I gave birth and what a different scenario panned out. I try to suppress the salty tears I feel flooding my eyes as I get away from the excitement, but those tears I shed for what I have lost. The greatest loss of all losses. We lost our firstborn. We lost the excitement of being a new parent. We lost the joy of bringing baby home, hearing her first cry, giving the first bottle, bath, her first steps...we lost a lifetime with our little girl.
So, when another couple welcomes their baby, I sadly recount all that I have lost. I'm the mom to three children, one which I was robbed of every opportunity to parent. I don't want to feel sad, but it's in me. It bubbles up to a point I'm unable to control and it overflows with those tears that I try so hard to suppress. Tears that represent the sting of losing a child. A sting that never fully heals and is always with us. A sting that may be duller on some days than others but a sting that reminds us of what should have been.
