A year later

It's been over a year since we said hello and goodbye to our first born son. I've learned that the pain doesn't go away but it's not as potent anymore. I still miss him every day. I still talk to him every day. He's always on my mind and his name is always a whisper on my lips but I don't feel the sting of loss. There's some things that have made the loss more potent. The sudden passing of my mother in law brought up a lot of ugly emotions. I found myself angry that she was getting to hold him in heaven first. I found myself angry that she dared to pass away. I almost felt like she did it on purpose. It was incredibly irrational and it took a lot of introspect and being honest with myself and open to my husband and my family to acknowledge that those feelings were irrational, even if they were normal. It's been a month since she passed away and I still feel little stings of anger that she has eternity so much earlier than I do but now I know that I'm not crazy and that it's just grief talking. I've also found myself feeling guilty as I carry his little sibling in my womb. We prayed for this child and we tried hard for this child. But I feel guilty because I'm under so much observation with my doctor, I switched to a high risk OB, and I have an MFM for this pregnancy. I have had medical interventions that I credit for making it as far as I have in this pregnancy, interventions that could have saved Matthew if my doctor had taken my concerns seriously. And I'm on bed rest to keep preterm labor at bay. I pray every day that this pregnancy continues but I can't help the guilt. Every day that I'm on bed rest, every week that I get progesterone shots, I'm reminded that my little boy wasn't even given the chance.

I'm a loss momma

I know that my journey is one that makes others uncomfortable. I get that message everyday. In face to face interactions I'm told that I'm making someone else too sad as they walk away. On Facebook, his photo gets 10 likes while a selfie of me drinking a cup of coffee get 30 likes. I get it. It's sad. But he's my only son. And he died. And I live with the sadness day in and day out. How come a loss momma can't get the same reaction as a momma of living babies? Why can a loss momma not talk about her son, not post photos of her son, or anything else because it makes you uncomfortable? 1 in 4 pregnancies end in a loss. 1 in 160 pregnancies ends in stillbirth. It's time to have the discussions. It's time to allow those who have been dealt this hand to talk freely about their children. It's time to stop shutting down because another person's story is "too sad." It's time to tear down the walls of silence. So once more:

          I'm a loss momma.

                   I have a son.

                             His name is Matthew William.

                                      He looks like his dad.

                                              I will forever be sharing my story and his photo.