Baby Rose, The Last Part

My heart is heavy today. I haven't been able to finish my story yet because once again am avoiding any type of closure that involves my baby girl. Just getting those words written out causes a lump in my throat and my eyes to water up. My baby girl? Did I really have a baby girl? Will I ever have another baby girl and be able to say those words without a thousand daggers stabbing me in the heart? I don't know the answer to that.

I thought getting a pregnant would help ease my pain and transfer my focus elsewhere, but that hasn't happened yet and now I'm not only hurting for my loss, but I'm hurting for the child I want to be carrying.

My iVillage message board signature for the August '11 Expecting Club.

I know it sounds pretty selfish to those of you who want a child, any child, and I'm suffering and angry because I want another child. I know a lot of people struggling to conceive, dealing with miscarriages and infertility; actually I know more people dealing with those problems than can easily get pregnant. I do know that it hurts me very much for those I'm close to dealing with this. My heart aches every month that they are trying and not able to conceive. I wish I could do something, but I can't. I wish I could take away their pain, and split my own child in half and share him. I would. When you really think about it, it's a miracle any of us are here.

We started our journey for baby #2 last September when I began charting and temping. Has it been a year already? And still no child. I know my family is not complete with just one child, and I would be truly devastated if we learned we couldn't have any more children. I am very grateful for my son. I am so happy that he is here with us and is healthy. It doesn't make my loss any easier to deal with, and it doesn't mean I'm any less deserving of another child. I've been noticing all these little moments lately where Carter would benefit from having a sibling around. And it kills me that we have failed so far at giving him one. I know 5 cycles isn't a long time at all, and I hate complaining when others have been trying longer. I feel guilty feeling sad for myself sometimes.

My due date was August 16, 2011. I would have been due in exactly three weeks today. I would have been considered full-term today. Several members of the August 2011 Expecting Club that I was a part of have had their babies already. I should be with them. On a daily basis all the "what ifs" run through my head. I've been having a harder time dealing with those what ifs now that my due date is approaching. I remind Andy on a weekly basis how far along I would have been, and of the impending "d" day as it approaches as if it's a countdown to doomsday or something. I wonder what our nursery would have looked like, what my baby shower would have been like, what name we would have decided on... All those things would have been said and done by now.

Immediately following my surgery, I was all hopped up on pain medication and trying to process everything. I thought I was okay, I thought I was going to be okay. But I wasn't. It's amazing how many things I had collected related to pregnancy in those three short months. Prenatal vitamins on the night stand, pregnancy books, baby related TV shows on the DVR, email reminders of how far along I was, iPhone app's, doctors appointment reminder cards, message board signatures, maternity clothes, pictures of positive pregnancy test pictures, bookmarked baby sites, weekly bump pictures taken so far, ultrasound photos, and the worst of all, bills and hospital bracelets from the loss itself.

Honestly, I still haven't gone through most of this stuff. I put the obvious away, but there is so many reminders that continue to come out of the wood work. My plan was to put all of these mementos in a box and store it somewhere, but I haven't been able to do this yet. Someday I'll tell Carter and my future children the story of their sister. But nothing feels like it will be enough to properly remember our baby. I'd like to plan a tasteful, small and hidden tattoo - but not sure when or if that will happen.

I did really appreciate the people that were there for me after my loss. Some friends were very kind, and others didn't know what to say or do, so they did nothing. I think the worst thing you can do is nothing. I wanted to talk about it, I wanted others to show emotion about it. When people avoided the topic there was a big pink elephant in the room that we were all avoiding. It's okay to tell me how sorry you are. It's OK to ask me questions. Even though it pains me to talk about it, by ignoring what happened, it's as if you are not acknowledging the existence of my child and the severity of what happened. She was my child. I really appreciated the people that took the time to send cards or brought me flowers. Thank you. Those small gestures made me feel like she was more of a human being than just some small fetus and that she deserved to be mourned.

BFP pictures - memories of our little one lost

Some family members, who I thought I was very close to acted just horribly. Not only did they not acknowledge what happened at all, but they were very mean. They told me to "snap out of it" just days after the procedure. I was yelled at for my "off" behavior at work not even a week later. Another person in my family became very distant to me during this time, when we were normally very close. I was very sad in the weeks that followed and they used this opportunity to kick me while I was down. They never asked me how I was doing or feeling, and when I would bring it up, they would get very tense and change the subject. Even though we are close again today, I can't forget how they acted in the days when I needed them the most. Some people won't understand until they have gone through something similar, and even then they may never understand my pain. Because my pain is personal.

One of the most astounding things I've learned is that that grief is universal and personal at the same time.

Today, I'm surviving. I'm happy. I'm content. I'm hopeful. There is a hole in my heart that might as well never be filled and I'm learning to live with that. My physical scars have healed and I'm working on the emotional scars. I'm looking forward for the future and open to what it may bring.

My fortune from today's lunch:



Thank you fortune cookie Gods. I needed this.

This is the last Ultrasound photo I have, taken 02/09/2011, just days before we lost her.

This photo also taken on that same day shows the sound waves of her strong heartbeat.

Why it stopped beating, we will never know.

Rose York
12/05/2010 - 02/18/2011
May you always rest in peace.


Mommy can't wait to meet you someday. I love you.