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.