Today is the three year “anniversary” of my first due date.
It’s different this year, for sure, with McLovin here. I still feel cheated, I still feel a longing. But the edges are a little smoother, it’s less bitter and more bittersweet. I don’t feel like laying in bed and shutting out the world like I have in the past.
I now know what I missed out on. Every child is different, and I think I probably mother McLovin differently than I would have if I hadn’t experienced loss, so I’m sure the experience I am having now is not the experience I would have had then. But I now know what it feels like to see my child smile at me. I now know what it feels like to see my child army crawl. I now know what it feels like to come home from work and see my child smile and squeal and reach out to me. I now know what it feels like to go through the same bed time routine every night and never feel bored with it. I know what it feels like to watch him sleep on the monitor. I know what it feels like to love a living child.
And it makes me sad that I didn’t get to experience this with my first three babies. Why? Why were they not able to survive? Why was I not able to love them like this? Why did they not get the chance to be someone and live a life? McLovin is everything to me, and he’s done so much to heal me, and I love him so very, very much. But the scars will always be there. He doesn’t replace the three babies I lost and he doesn’t make the memories or scars disappear.
I realize that, there’s no way all three of them could have all been born live. The timing is way off. I realize that McLovin would not be here if my third pregnancy had been viable and resulted in a child. I realize that my second baby would not have been conceived if my first baby had been viable.
It’s still a hard day. July 21st will always be a day seared in my brain. I see boys around three years of age and I wonder (because I always felt my first baby was a boy.)