october 2012
I was freshly 25 and newly in love. In love with a boy that finally made my heart feel like it belonged right where it was. A love that was good. A love that, little did we know then, could get through just about anything. The colors were starting to change outside and as I drove myself home from work that Friday in October, I found my mind wandering... to fall, and new sweaters, and pumpkin bread, and to a thought that, wait a second, could I be...?
And the answer was yes. That bright red shiny positive. I was pregnant. That Friday in October, I became a mother.
I don’t remember feeling scared, or nervous, or worried. Just instantly in love. And ready. So ready to be a mother. I wondered things like who will this little baby be? A boy? A girl? What kind of mother will I be? I am so in love. So in love.
november 25, 2012 – the hardest day
Things weren’t right this day. Starting in the very early hours. Things just weren’t right. I knew they weren’t right. This wasn’t how I was supposed to be feeling. And as the day went on, the feeling got worse. Much much worse. Painful. No. it can’t be. I’m supposed to be a mother. I was supposed to be a mother. But things didn’t get better and as the night went on, I learned that you were already gone. And as the tears flowed and our hearts broke, we said goodbye to our tiny little someday baby in the late hours of that cold Sunday night. You were gone.
I still don’t have the words to describe the months between then and now. Except for that it was not easy. And that our hearts will never be the same. That the ache never really goes away, it just gets a little easier to bear. I think the hardest part was not knowing if I will ever get another chance to be a mother. And wondering what I could have done differently, or why this happened to me? And will I ever feel joy again? But you need to know how lucky you are, Olive. Because you have two parents who have so much love for each other that we learned how to let this make us stronger. And braver. And if it was possible, even more in love. An unbreakable love that we couldn’t wait to share with you. We couldn’t wait... but we did. We waited.
may 2013
And waited.
I knew you were there, then, but my heart wasn’t sure if I could even take it. So I waited, some more. Summer was on its way and as I drove myself home from work that Friday in May, my heart felt its first glimmer of hope for you. And the answer was yes. That bright red shiny positive. I was pregnant... with you, Olive. I remember sitting on my bathroom floor, just me and Lola-pup, crying and thanking all of my stars and whoever grants my wishes for my second chance. For you, Olive. You are my joy and my peace and I have waited for you. Really waited.
october 2013
Its been a year. I am freshly 26. Just a few days shy of 28 weeks. 28 weeks pregnant. 90% viability. I keep telling myself all of the facts. And as I’m typing, I can feel you doing some sort of somersault-stretch that hurts my guts, but I don’t even care. Because in 12 weeks I will get to kiss your little fingers and toes and see what your little baby lips look like and what color your hair is. I am your mother. I have been a mother since October 2012. And my nervous little heart sometimes can’t even handle the wait. But I love you. So much. Already.
I am bringing a woman into this world. I don’t really know how to explain how that makes my heart feel. Except for that I feel so lucky, and honored. And I know that the world is a scary place and that sometimes, really awful things happen. But I am so grateful that you will grow up around other strong, kind, and amazing women. The women who helped me through the hardest days and were by my side through the happiest. We are women who help and support other women, Olive. And I already know that you are destined for great things.
Thank you for teaching me how to feel joy again, Olive Elisabeth.
I love you.
Its been a year. I am freshly 26. Just a few days shy of 28 weeks. 28 weeks pregnant. 90% viability. I keep telling myself all of the facts. And as I’m typing, I can feel you doing some sort of somersault-stretch that hurts my guts, but I don’t even care. Because in 12 weeks I will get to kiss your little fingers and toes and see what your little baby lips look like and what color your hair is. I am your mother. I have been a mother since October 2012. And my nervous little heart sometimes can’t even handle the wait. But I love you. So much. Already.
I am bringing a woman into this world. I don’t really know how to explain how that makes my heart feel. Except for that I feel so lucky, and honored. And I know that the world is a scary place and that sometimes, really awful things happen. But I am so grateful that you will grow up around other strong, kind, and amazing women. The women who helped me through the hardest days and were by my side through the happiest. We are women who help and support other women, Olive. And I already know that you are destined for great things.
Thank you for teaching me how to feel joy again, Olive Elisabeth.
I love you.
