Letters to Eva

This post is full of triggers. These are real feelings and they hurt. Tread lightly.

Dear Eva,

Mama is struggling tonight. I’m anxious, my thoughts are scrambled, and I physically ache for you. That’s one thing I still can’t understand about grief. How our bodies can actually hurt, real aches and symptoms from loss. I almost always have a headache now, that nothing touches, my chest is tight, like something is trying to pull my heart out. The physical longing is the worst part. I can busy my mind, or channel my thoughts into this blog, but no amount of Tylenol or hot baths can soothe the physical pain of wanting you with us. Tonight I laid in bed trying to be still for your daddy to get some sleep until I just couldn’t bare it anymore. My thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone, and my body was just uncomfortable.

I’ve been thinking a lot these last few days about events from over a year ago and about what that looks like now. February and March 2017 your Daddy and I were busy teaching you how to say “Baby” and kiss mommy’s tummy. We were so excited and trying so hard to prepare you to become a big sister. You were eager, always rubbing mom’s tummy, playing with your brand new baby dolly that Grandma bought you, learning to be gentle. April 21, 2017 Daddy and I went to Saskatoon for a special ultrasound and we learned that our little baby no longer had a heartbeat. We were devastated. You were so little so when we got home and you kissed moms belly and said “Baby” you didn’t understand why mommy started to cry. You would have been a great big sister. That’s what I’ve been thinking about the last few days. Are you busy being a big sister in heaven? Do you have a little brother or a little sister? I’m sure you two are together, maybe baby was there to greet you with Grandma Eva and Grandpa Bernard when you got to heaven. Take care of each other, please.

I am a mom to angels. Why? I really want to know why? Did I do something wrong? I know that you love me, and that I did a good job. But it’s hard to feel that way when both your babies can’t be with you. In under a year we lost a pregnancy and a child. In my 25 years of life I’ve been through more than most go through in a life time. This is the most backwards, awful, devastating thing anybody should ever have to go through. “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” Well if that’s the case I must be f-ing invincible. Sorry, kiddo, for the swears, but there really are no other words for this other than it is completely f-ing hell. Just when I was starting to feel okay again – bam! Another hit to the gut, might as well just rip my heart out. I used to think nothing made you feel more broken as a woman than a miscarriage. Now I know I was wrong. This makes you feel broken, and like you failed. I know we did everything for you that we could, we doted on you and made sure you had the best treatment available. However, knowing that doesn’t make the guilt any less.

People tell you not to go to that place. That it’s not my fault. That I couldn’t have done anything differently. Let me tell you, it doesn’t matter how often you hear that. You are still going to go there. You are still going to beat yourself up, still going to replay the events and everything over and over again. I think its part of the grief, and I know its okay. I’m not going to let it run me, but I do need to go there a little bit to realize how good of a mom I really am. I was meant to have you, no matter how short that time was. I needed you in my life, god gives you who you are meant to raise. That I do believe. 100%.

Call it Mother’s Intuition or whatever. I think I always knew. I think that deep down I knew I wasn’t going to have you earth side with me forever. I mean, we as humans push that away, but from the very first bruise I knew you weren’t okay. I think for me that is the worst part, sometimes I feel that my instincts let me down. Why didn’t I know that night that you weren’t okay? I know that you know I loved you and did everything for you or with you in mind. I know that you will never be mad or disappointed in me. Can you help mommy to not be disappointed in herself? I know its going to take time, and that I will heal. A fellow mom that has been chosen to walk this road told me recently: “It will get easier, it will change, just give it 20 years or so.” Holy F. That’s a long time, especially when time feels like it’s standing still.

I love you, Turkey Bird. So F-ing much.

Love and Kisses,

Your Mama.