For the weekend we were a family of four.
It wasn’t for long, of course, and it was our secret. Your existence most alive in our heads.
But not entirely.
The second faint line – it was there. The doctor saw it. I saw it (you), too. You were there, little more than a shadow. But you existed. You were a flicker.
And those few days were nice, weren’t they? The planning. The imagining. The (guarded) celebrating. We always knew it was too early to really relax with you. We knew the faint line signaling your existence might just as easily be gone tomorrow. But oh, the hopes that come forward anyway. How can they not?
The last weekend of summer was the first and only weekend we had with you. Your brother joyfully oblivious.
I felt you both. A mother of two! My kids; one holding my hand, both holding my heart and you, a great unknown still.
And then just like that you were gone.
The last weekend of summer was the first and only weekend we had with you. We spent it at Story Land. I love that. At the beginning, in our earliest days, we’re all partly the story our parents tell themselves, aren’t we?
In another day and age we wouldn’t have even known you’d existed. There would have been no early test. There would have been no tears.
But I’m glad we knew.
The last weekend of summer – our only weekend together – was perfect.
<3
I’m sorry for your loss. The same thing happened to me, when we were trying for our first, on the same weekend – Labor Day 2012. I have a beautiful toddler now but I still remember at this time of year. Let yourself grieve. Big hugs.
Liz… I am so sorry for your loss… I have been there… 3 times actually…. Have faith and continue to take comfort in your perfect little boy. ❤️
My heart breaks for you. As I too have known about 3 siblings for my son that have never came to be this year too.
xoxo
I am so so sorry Liz. I cried reading this. I went through a miscarriage myself before I had my son and your words brought back so many feelings. In spite of the pain, I was glad I knew too. Those few happy days imagining my little one and loving it already are painful looking back, but I cherish them still and always think of that other baby as my first one, never to be forgotten. Big hugs.
Oh, Liz……My heart is just breaking for you. I know you will understand when I say that I know just how devastating it is. My thoughts and prayers are with you and Brian. I hope you have been able to make your peace with it. Your readers, like myself, are here for you.
Sending the best of thoughts to you and Brian. One of the surprisingly tough things about loss is that no one seems to talk about it. Of course, I couldn’t keep it in (which led to some awkward conversations). So thank you for sharing. Your community of peeps is here for you, and we’re sending love and light your way.
Been there. Twice. It sucks. 🙁
As is your style, you’ve found a beautiful way to share a heartbreaking experience.
I’m officially on Team Liz, sending positive energy and hope your way.