Due date

I never really know which hypothetical to think about. Oliver was delivered in May, at 31 weeks so we celebrate that day as his birthday, but if he had been full term his birthday would be today.

If he had been full term he would be 2. And everything would be different. There would be no Elliot. I can't think about that, but on days like today I can't stop myself from wondering; what would life be like?

Losing a baby is one of those things that defines you. It becomes part of who you are too the core, and changes you to the point where you might not recognize your old self. Back when you were safe, in the bubble.

Losing Oliver has defined me as a mother. I was loss mom first. The first baby I delivered didn't come home with me. It has overshadowed everything since. It's the reason that every morning, no matter how early he wakes up, the noise Elliot makes lets me breathe a sigh of relief. My parenting has more fear and more gratitude I think, and that's because of Oliver.

All day today, at the back of my mind will be the what ifs. The hypothetical. The impossible to think about. A full term Oliver. Would he be like his brother? More like his dad? Would I be different? Less afraid. Protected by the feeling that bad things happen to other people.

We miss you today Oliver. Your dad and I both, we think about you every day but today you will be a little sharper in our minds. We love you.

I stopped posting.

I stopped posting on this blog. The reason I stopped at first was that I found out I was pregnant again. I wasn't ready to tell people, so I decided to take a break from blogging until I new what to say, and somehow I just stopped.

baby Speck

This pregnancy is terrifying.

There is no way to write about Oliver without writing about the baby who is 27 weeks along, who I fear dying daily. Every twinge, every pain, makes me afraid something is going to be wrong, and that before I know it I will be grieving another son I will never get to know.

And when he kicks, and lets me know he is still alive in there, I feel guilty. I feel guilty for loving him as much as I love Oliver. I feel guilty knowing that this particular baby would not exist if his brother had survived. I feel guilty that we plan to give him all of his brother's unused things. All those gifts that were made with love.. for another baby. If Oliver had lived, his younger siblings would have used those things. I watched my sister learn to ride my first bike. I watched her sell my old stuffed animals at garage sales, and get to keep the money because they were "hers" now. I know the people who gave us beautiful gifts, did so picturing a baby using them. Being snuggled. Being loved. The blanket that was knit with love was meant to be wrapped around a baby, and it will be. But I can't help but feel guilty, that the baby wont be Oliver.

And I feel guilty for the new baby. The day I found out I was pregnant with Oliver was the best day. Every moment of being pregnant- even the ones that sucked- was amazing. I made special announcements to tell the world he was coming. We told our parents with special Christmas gifts, so that Christmas mornign we got to see them unwrap the news that they were going to be grandparents for the first time.

And now it's bittersweet. I told my mom I was pregnant again with a phone call. A terrified phone call. I don't lay awake at night picturing taking the baby on walks by the river, I lay awake wondering if I could survive losing him. If I could plan another funeral for another child. His whole life he will have the shadow of not being Oliver.

I am terrified that he will be overshadowed by his dead brother. And terrified that he won't. Im afraid that the living breathing son reaching milestones will become more real, and his brother who would have been, will fade away. And when he does, part of me will too.

And more than anything, I want baby Speck to live. I want him to be born, and cry, and poop on all our stuff, and keep us awake for endless hours and get gum on the cat, and take my car and get married and be happy. And the hardest part is knowing that there is no guarantee.