A Gift

Today has been a sad day.  I can't put my finger on exactly what the trigger was, but I knew as soon as I woke up this morning that I was going to struggle today.  As I was driving to my monitoring appointment this morning, I heard a song on the radio that threw me right into a slump.  A deep slump.  One that I've been fighting all day.  I cried through my entire appointment, despite Baby Dos kicking and moving all over the place.  I composed myself on my way to work, talked to a girlfriend on the phone, and thought I had it together, but as soon as I walked into my office and a coworker asked me how I was doing, I immediately bursted into tears.  Then, for the remainder of the day, anytime anyone asked me how I was or commented on my belly, I fought the tears (sometimes successfully, but mostly not so much).  Today was the kind of day where I shouldn't even have bothered putting makeup on.  It was all smudged by 9AM, and completely worn off by noon. 

I have trouble articulating exactly how I'm feeling lately.  I knew the last few weeks of pregnancy would be the most difficult for me, and I've spent several weeks trying to mentally brace for the anxiety of worrying about things going wrong at the very end again.  My therapist and I have been really focused on preventing and coping with the anxiety, and shifting my thinking toward planning for bringing this baby home.  In that arena, I feel like I'm doing pretty well. 

Grief, however, is a monster all its own.  For no reason I could put my finger on, the grief came to the forefront again today, for the first time in weeks.  I miss Virginia, so badly that my arms and chest physically hurt.  I feel that old familiar ache of heavy emptiness in my arms, and the pain of the giant empty void in my heart that no one else can fill.  As grateful as I am to have Baby Dos healthy and squirming in my belly, nothing quells the aching emptiness that her sister has left behind.  Then the guilt set in.  Guilt about not being more appreciative of the fact that I've been given this opportunity to have another baby.  Guilt about betraying Virginia or attempting to "replace" her.  Guilt about still being stuck in this grief, less than 2 weeks before what should be one of the happiest days of my life.  And of course, feeling guilty for still grieving so deeply sent me further into my downward spiral. 

So I decided to text a couple of my loss girlfriends, desperate for a kind of support and understanding that only they can offer.  They both had very encouraging words to pass along.  But one thing that stuck with me is what my friend Lisa said, that it helps her to think of the son she just had as a gift from the baby boy she lost.  I love that sentiment, because it doesn't take away from the grief I still feel so strongly, 13 months later.  And it doesn't mean that Baby Dos will in any way replace Virginia.  It means that Virginia still plays an important role in our lives.  She is still watching out for us every day, knowing that we miss her deeply, but also giving us the greatest gift she possibly could--the hope of a sibling to raise and love.  Suddenly, the emotions of today don't seem quite as heavy.  The grief is still there (it always will be), but now I can see a little more clearly through the grief to the gift on the other side.  Sweet Virginia is still very much here with us. 

Comparisons

I've had several people ask me over the last few months how this pregnancy compares to my last one.  To be honest, the pregnancies have been quite similar in terms of my body's response.  I felt a little worse symptoms-wise at the beginning of this pregnancy, and some of the more obnoxious pregnancy symptoms have come on a little bit earlier this time around.  But physically, I'm gaining approximately the same amount of weight, and started showing right around the same time.  If I had to guess, I'd probably say I'm carrying the same as well.  So I decided to open up my file of belly shots from my last pregnancy, and pull out a few to compare.

Here's 33ish weeks with Virginia:

 And 33 weeks with Baby Dos:

I don't see much of a difference, aside from looking a little rounder in my current pregnancy, but that could be because of the different angles.

In other news, we had a growth scan of our sweet little Baby Dos a couple weeks ago, to check on her size and look at the blood flow in the umbilical cord.  Everything came back perfectly, and we even got a shot of her sweet little face.  I immediately pulled out a picture of Virginia, to compare the two side-by-side.  They definitely have the same chubby little cheeks and button nose.

I sent the picture to my mom that night, and she commented that I have such beautiful little girls.  And then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I have girls.
I have two daughters.
I am a mother of two children.
We are a family of four.

I hadn't thought about it in that way before.  I guess because it still doesn't feel real to me.  Even as I approach the end of this long journey of becoming a mom to a take-home baby, I can't fathom what it will be like to bring this baby home and care for her and watch her grow.  I still see myself only as a mom to a baby that didn't make it.  And try as I may, I don't know how imagine what my role will look like when I can bring a baby home to nurture and take care of.  Of course I'm already a mom, but that title will take on a whole new meaning in only about a month (33 days, in case anyone's interested, but who's counting??).

I bring this all up because I find myself making lots of comparisons these days.
Comparisons between pregnancies.
Comparisons between babies.
Comparisons between my role as a mommy to an angel and mommy to a living child.
Comparisons between the life I live now, and the life I imagine I'd be living if Virginia was here.
All of these comparisons are a blessing and a curse.  I feel like my experience with losing Virginia has prepared me to become the best mother I can be, and for that, I'm very grateful.  But I miss my life before, the life that didn't have a dividing line drawn in the sand between the person I was before and the person I am now.  Randi before the devastation and Randi after.  I often drift off and daydream, wondering how different life would be if Virginia was here.  Or how much happier and more excited I might be about this pregnancy if this was my first go-'round, and I never had to experience the nightmare that was my life one year ago.  I can't seem to find any middle ground lately.  I'm either stuck in still grieving over Virginia while forgetting (or maybe even being in denial) that I'm pregnant with her little sister, or completely engulfed in all of the "new mommy" stuff.  I struggle to figure out where I "belong" in my role as a mom.  I'm certainly not new to the pregnancy experience, so in that sense, I'm not a first-time mom.  But I also have no idea what it takes to care for a newborn, so in that way, I feel very inexperienced.

I don't know how to fuse these two different parts of myself.  How do the grief and excitement coexist?  How can they both be integrated into a situation that's fraught with contradictions?  I guess this is all part of the journey.  Life seems to be adamant about teaching me many lessons I didn't ever know I wanted to learn, one of them being that there are sometimes no easy answers to these kinds of questions.

So even though this journey through pregnancy is quickly coming to an end, I'm still constantly reminding myself to stay in the moment and continue to take things day by day.  And to breathe.  To relax.  To have hope.  To continue to allow myself to feel whatever I'm feeling.  And to remember that it's ok to not always have all the answers.