Babies Should Come Home

Have you ever heard of Holoprosencephaly?  Triploidy?  Encephalocele?  Fetal Hydrops?  Amniotic Band Syndrome?  Anencephaly?  Trisomy 18?  

I have.  I've heard of all of these, and much more.  Once you've lost a baby, and you understand, stories come from everywhere.  For loss moms, or moms facing loss, this is something the world doesn't like to talk about.  Something people don't like to face.  Who can blame them?  In their world, babies come home, and to think they don't is to be terrified beyond words.  So, when one of us moms finds someone else who will talk to us, we can sometimes just unload.  After a while, loss moms don't just carry around the story of their own heartache, but a thousand others.  From a fatal prenatal diagnosis, to SIDS, we know someone, and we're connected to them.

The day Sarah died, my friend K. was walking out to the parking lot to meet her husband, when she saw an angry young teenage girl come in to be admitted into labor and delivery.  Her exact words were, "It's just not fucking fair."  And you know what?  It's not.  It's not fucking fair.  It's not fair that crack users can waltz into a hospital and give birth to a healthy baby while some of us are forcing down our prenatal vitamins over our morning sickness and doing everything right and we leave the hospital empty handed.  

It's not fair that some parents neglect and abuse their children, while some of us spent a month picking out the safest car seat or make sure we always pick the best way for our baby to sleep only to lose our little one to SIDS.

I know.  The world isn't fair.  Life isn't fair.  But I think it's fair to say that sometimes, when it's all overwhelming me a bit, I get angry.  I'm angry that it isn't fair.  I'm angry that I don't have three little girls sleeping together upstairs after fighting about who worked hardest to clean up the playroom.  I'm angry that Liam will have to have surgery when he should just be nursing in my arms.  I'm angry that so many loving and wonderful parents have to hurt so much.  And I'm furious that there's not a damn thing I can do to make it better.  You see, I'm a a mom.  That's what I do.  I make it better.  And when the only comfort I can give is a hug and a prayer, I get really mad.  Because scared, hurting, heartbroken mamas deserve so much more than that.  

I'm sorry this is not a very upbeat blog post.  My emotions tend to be a roller coaster during the most normal of pregnancies, which this is not.  So, right now I'm just kind of rolling around in the "It's not fucking fair".  

At some point I promise I'll get up, dust it off, and send that energy out into the universe as a prayer for healing and comfort.  But for now, I'm going to stew in it a bit until my fingers are pruney.