Flashback: 12th August 2015

I feel frustrated and angry and probably jealous too when I see others with their bellies / babies. What happened with my baby? Why did it not survive?

It would be so much easier if my baby hadn’t died. Of course I only say that because I have no idea why it died, who knows, if it survived it may have been the biggest struggle.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way I cried so easily and deeply when it happened. And it felt almost cruel how I had to carry it for nearly 2 weeks without it being alive (despite me putting off the D&C for a couple of days). If I had to carry it why couldn’t it be alive? Heck, why couldn’t it have just survived?

“Why” is the biggest question.

I’m honestly ok with it not surviving because what is the point of it living if it’s going to be sick? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I just think there’d be a lot more closure if I knew, rather than it being a probable chromosomal / growth problem, due to the massive growth rate. I don’t like all the “maybe it was…” and speculation.


What colour were your eyes?

What colour was your hair?

Heaven seems too far off to wait to meet you.

I often think about holding you, I can feel you and smell you as I see you on my lap.

I think maybe you had blue eyes like me. And you definitely had nice, soft, even, blonde hair.

There’s no doubt about it too – you were definitely a chubster (perfect for being a winter baby).

I think about your podgy feet and cute toes. How would I have managed to trim those tiny nails!

Were you a boy or a girl?

What did your laugh sound like? No doubt it was the best sound in the world.

But at least I got to see your heart beat.

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Author: thegriefdiariesblog

A borderline hyperactive Personal Trainer, navigating the process of starting a family.

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