Eight years since I lost my Gem. My baby girl. The last baby I'll ever have. Right now it feels like it happened yesterday. I remember the loss. The tiny life in a plastic bag. The trip to the hospital. The inevitable. The horror, the stillness, the acceptance. It came over time. It was the very worst day of my life.
I remember going out to eat with my husband. Eating a big fat burger, fries, and a coke. Comfort food that I didn't even taste. Simple numbness. Driving home. Coming into my house with a friend waiting who was watching the kids. A big hug. A knowing look.
Heartwrenching to lose a baby. No one can understand it unless they've lost a child. It's the very, very worst thing I can ever imagine. Your heart literally feels like it's dying. Your insides are crunched up into a little ball. You are sad beyond imagination. Your life feels like a movie you are watching, not participating in.
People are caring, but they don't know what to say. So often, they say nothing. A missing baby is not conceivable to them. It's like it was never there, but it was. To me. She was. She is.
Some say things like "well, you've already got plenty of kids." as if that makes it okay. It is like a knife to the gut. Someone told me "it was meant to happen." Okay. What is that supposed to mean? I just found that instantly cold.
But life has gone on. My children are growing up to be happy and healthy. I am lucky. My baby has gone on to spend an eternity with God. I am good with that. I just miss her terribly. I think of her always. I want to be with her. I keep the joy in my heart that I will someday. I will hold her, I will nuture her, and I will see her shining eyes look into mine. That is my peace. That is what keeps me going, that is how I cope.
