The due date is looming. I told myself that I wasn’t going to let this milestone set me back, but here I am plummeting back to the depths of my despair. A few months ago I could look at pregnant belly and pretend like it didn’t trigger my grief, but as the due date nears, I find pregnant bellies especially disheartening.
I torture myself by thinking that that’s what my belly should look like right now. It should be plump and round and I should be at the point in my pregnancy where getting out of bed makes me feel like a rotisserie chicken. I should be having a baby sprinkle and booking maternity photos. Brandon and I should be fighting over colors to paint the nursery and washing old bottles and sanitizing pump parts. We should be full of love and excitement in anticipation of our new addition, but instead we are trapped in this state of grief as we surrender our happiness to that dreaded due date.
I was so excited when I learned that we had a projected May due date. I was thrilled to not have to be super pregnant over the summer as well as to be able plan the best outdoor birthday parties. I loved that my kids would be two and half years apart and I imagined putting them on the bus and sending them off to homecoming together.
In the 7 short weeks that I was pregnant, I imagined a whole life for my baby and for our family. Although the pregnancy threatened to be unsuccessful even from the very first test I took, I still allowed myself to fall in love with this little life that Brandon and I created.
I’ve come so far with my healing and I truly do feel as if my heart and spirit are in a good place, which is why this wave of melancholy crashing over me has been especially defeating. I try to remind myself that healing is not linear, but it feels like everyone around me is convinced that I’ve moved on. It’s almost as if I have to give myself permission to be sad. On the 14th of every month, I’m painfully reminded that another month has passed since our loss. With each passing month, it feels like my window of time to grieve gets smaller. I know this isn’t true, but it’s an expectation I unfairly set for myself.
The trauma and the healing process that ensues, are a reflection of one another. How you endured your trauma and navigate your healing are experiences that are uniquely you. Brandon and I went through the same hardship, yet we are facing it differently. Some days are harder for me and easier for him, while others, like the due date, are days that take grip on both of our hearts and strangle them without mercy.
Be gentle with yourself and be kind to others. You truly don’t know when someone is having one of their hardest days.
I promise that I’ll get back to my quirky write ups about mom life. There is so much to divulge about toddlerhood and I miss writing about happier things. This is where my heart and soul are at currently and sharing my healing journey is crucial to my improvement. I appreciate you all for continuing to read and supporting me in this new season of my life. It was never my intention to write such heavy content on my blog, but it feels like it was meant to be. This is how I heal ❤️