We learned I was pregnant on New Years Day.
I tried to celebrate this baby, and I did with an early announcement and a "big sister" book for Eden. But the sight of the positive test was ominous for me. I told Ryan immediately, "he's a boy, and he isn't ours to keep either". We prayed that I was wrong, but I knew.
Four days later we found ourselves in the emergency room receiving the news I expected.
I was two days into the miscarriage when I was called by the CHERUBS president and informed that someone had stolen pictures of Eden to pass off as her own deceased fake baby. Enter the hell and drama that was my baby girl's identity theft... and exit the opportunity to truly grieve for the baby we were presently losing.
It wasn't until I was at the Hope Mommies Retreat the next month that I realized that I had not absorbed what had happened- I had not recognized that I lost another child until I saw only one name beside mine.
So when I came home I told Ryan I felt he needed a name, and a few days later he suggested "Errol". It means 'to wander', and it fit because that is what he did. By the time I knew he was here, he was on his way back Home. From then on our second child became known as Baby Errol. It got past me that Errol was also the Weasley's owl in Harry Potter, until my best friend reminded me and it comforted me as HP will always be my favorite story (I mean, who doesn't like HP?).
But I still did not fully grieve that loss even with giving him a name, because at the end of February I found myself pregnant with our third child. It happened so quickly and surprisingly that I just had to move forward and press into the good feelings that this pregnancy brought. When Mason also died at 15 weeks in May, Eden's birthday followed shortly after...
Baby Errol was almost ignored through it all (in true middle child fashion), until suddenly it was July and someone said the word "September" and my heart immediately dropped- I should have a newborn baby in September. On September 7th, to be exact. And that unexpected punch to the gut- "It'll be September soon," is when I really started to grieve that loss.
Today I am reflecting on what that grief looks like- it is so different from that which I carry for Eden and for Mason. I had no chance to get to know him. I am missing what might have been rather than what actually was. Does that make sense? The pain of early miscarriage is so ambiguous- so much possibility, just disappeared.
I have nothing for Errol. Not a footprint or a picture. His body is not in a plot or an urn. The pregnancy test is in my drawer and that is all I have to show for his brief existence. When I miss my daughter I can hold her weighted bear. When I miss my son I can snuggle his blankie. I can grab things from their time with me and cling a little to the past. I can recall their personalities. I don't have things like this for Baby Errol. So missing Errol is purely missing the future. There's nothing left behind, just this gaping hole where this child I never knew should have been.
He's not less meaningful to us because of all this. He is my child. This baby came to us after we thought we could never even imagine having another. He made it real to me that I am not exempt from loss after loss- no free passes for anyone. It is just far more complicated to be intentional with so much unanswered grief.
The summer weekend for the Mara Hope Project sessions just passed. As he was helping me set up the studio, I told Ryan I really wanted a complete family portrait. He asked how we would include Errol and neither of us could find an answer. So we didn't participate this time. And that made me really sad. But it also rustled in me the desire to purposely honor his life as we approached his due date.
I felt lost and still do... but for this tiny little being and his tiny life, small and simple things seem appropriate.
We cuddled and loved on the little boy that would have been his best friend.
We went to the fair this week and Ryan won me a small owl, one that caught my eye just for Errol.
We went out this morning and brought home a plant to nurture.
I'll finally linger again in the room of unused baby supplies. Perhaps I'll even clean it.
I'll write my photography proposal for the charity interested.
And suddenly it'll be tomorrow, but I'm not sure I'll feel any less lost than I do today.
And that's okay. Two years ago last month we began praying for a child and now we have three in Heaven. It's a tough pill to swallow and one that I can admit I have a hard time accepting, as anyone would.
But oh, I bet this kid is just smiling at me. I know this all seems so trivial to those babies. The joke is on me, because every day is a happy one for them, even if it's a sad one for me. There's the only peace. I know he's glad, healthy, and whole and just waiting there for me with his (yes, or her) brother and sister.
So, happy due date to you, Baby Errol. Your Mama is missing all that should be today.
It wasn't until I was at the Hope Mommies Retreat the next month that I realized that I had not absorbed what had happened- I had not recognized that I lost another child until I saw only one name beside mine.
So when I came home I told Ryan I felt he needed a name, and a few days later he suggested "Errol". It means 'to wander', and it fit because that is what he did. By the time I knew he was here, he was on his way back Home. From then on our second child became known as Baby Errol. It got past me that Errol was also the Weasley's owl in Harry Potter, until my best friend reminded me and it comforted me as HP will always be my favorite story (I mean, who doesn't like HP?).
But I still did not fully grieve that loss even with giving him a name, because at the end of February I found myself pregnant with our third child. It happened so quickly and surprisingly that I just had to move forward and press into the good feelings that this pregnancy brought. When Mason also died at 15 weeks in May, Eden's birthday followed shortly after...
Baby Errol was almost ignored through it all (in true middle child fashion), until suddenly it was July and someone said the word "September" and my heart immediately dropped- I should have a newborn baby in September. On September 7th, to be exact. And that unexpected punch to the gut- "It'll be September soon," is when I really started to grieve that loss.
Today I am reflecting on what that grief looks like- it is so different from that which I carry for Eden and for Mason. I had no chance to get to know him. I am missing what might have been rather than what actually was. Does that make sense? The pain of early miscarriage is so ambiguous- so much possibility, just disappeared.
I have nothing for Errol. Not a footprint or a picture. His body is not in a plot or an urn. The pregnancy test is in my drawer and that is all I have to show for his brief existence. When I miss my daughter I can hold her weighted bear. When I miss my son I can snuggle his blankie. I can grab things from their time with me and cling a little to the past. I can recall their personalities. I don't have things like this for Baby Errol. So missing Errol is purely missing the future. There's nothing left behind, just this gaping hole where this child I never knew should have been.
He's not less meaningful to us because of all this. He is my child. This baby came to us after we thought we could never even imagine having another. He made it real to me that I am not exempt from loss after loss- no free passes for anyone. It is just far more complicated to be intentional with so much unanswered grief.
The summer weekend for the Mara Hope Project sessions just passed. As he was helping me set up the studio, I told Ryan I really wanted a complete family portrait. He asked how we would include Errol and neither of us could find an answer. So we didn't participate this time. And that made me really sad. But it also rustled in me the desire to purposely honor his life as we approached his due date.
I felt lost and still do... but for this tiny little being and his tiny life, small and simple things seem appropriate.
We cuddled and loved on the little boy that would have been his best friend.
We went to the fair this week and Ryan won me a small owl, one that caught my eye just for Errol.
We went out this morning and brought home a plant to nurture.
I'll finally linger again in the room of unused baby supplies. Perhaps I'll even clean it.
I'll write my photography proposal for the charity interested.
And suddenly it'll be tomorrow, but I'm not sure I'll feel any less lost than I do today.
And that's okay. Two years ago last month we began praying for a child and now we have three in Heaven. It's a tough pill to swallow and one that I can admit I have a hard time accepting, as anyone would.
But oh, I bet this kid is just smiling at me. I know this all seems so trivial to those babies. The joke is on me, because every day is a happy one for them, even if it's a sad one for me. There's the only peace. I know he's glad, healthy, and whole and just waiting there for me with his (yes, or her) brother and sister.
So, happy due date to you, Baby Errol. Your Mama is missing all that should be today.
