Image: Katie Lindhurst
Some days are easier than others.
Some days, I have it more together than others.
Today is not that day.
I have lost everything. Lost my control.
Seeing a little one- the little feet, the little hands, the little eyes and ears.
Knowing that this little one was a miracle and so many things were fighting against him.
Why do some get their miracle and others don’t?
Did I do something wrong?
Did I not pray hard enough or long enough for my daughter to live?
I prayed to God to do the best thing for her- should I have prayed for her to be healthy and my miracle?
Would I have been more disappointed when I didn’t get my miracle?
My arms ached SO much to hold her today.
I want to cuddle with her, hold her hands, change a diaper, have her sleep on my chest, have her get to know her brother, smile at us, coo and babble.
I wanted the world for her.
The mothers that say that they don’t get any time here on earth with their little ones, but will have more time than being alone here with them in Heaven- it’s just an illusion to themselves.
Women who have their babies here still get more time with their baby than we will EVER have.
They get to hold their baby, talk to them, watch them grow.
Mine is buried in the ground.
How does one deal with that?!
My heart aches for her. I want to just be with her for 5 minutes.
Just to hold her, tell her I love her.
What I would give to have those 5 minutes- but it would never be enough.
How badly did I want to go today, to see her greet me at the gates.
To hear her say, “Hi Mom! Welcome home! I can’t wait to show you this great place.”
I imagined that scenario in my head- how she sounded, looked, walked.
I could almost hear her, see her.
I could never do that to my son though.
He keeps me grounded here.
Without him, I don’t know what would have happened before or now.
It was my first real breakdown since I lost her.
Amazing how it is different once the meds are gone.
I could feel again.
It was like before was just a leaky faucet, just drips at a time.
Today was like a dam breaking- the flow of the water couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried.
Seeing that baby; I got sick to my stomach.
I felt like I was going to be sick.
I have had a hard time lately just walking by baby girl clothes.
The choking feeling rising up inside, panic setting in.
The longing taking over.
Today was the worst.
Seeing that baby.
What could have been- should have been for me.
Why couldn’t I have had my happy ending?
Bio: Katie Lindhurst is the founder and organizer of the baby loss support group Butterfly’s Wings in Utica, Michigan. Her daughter, Maggie, was stillborn on March 8, 2011 due to Trisomy 18. Although the journey has been rough and nowhere near over, she has the loving support of her husband, Ryan, and four-year-old son, Landon.