Entry 006
Today is Sunday, November 6th.
Today, my first baby would be 7 months and 5 days old. My second baby would be 2 days shy of 5 months and my fourth baby would be 15 weeks along. Today, my third baby should’ve been born.
I should’ve spent the morning triple checking the hospital bag I had packed weeks ago. Instead, I got up and did the dishes while my coffee was brewing. I put clothes in the washer then stared at the framed ultrasound picture on my living room wall—a picture I took with my phone of the screen the technician didn’t lock after he left the room so I could get dressed. And thank God I took that picture, because it’s the only one we have of our third baby.
Instead of getting to see our little girl come into the world at the hospital today, we visited her at the cemetery. Because our third baby is one of the two I didn’t have to flush down the toilet, we have the chance to sit next to the group headstone. Technically, there’s no headstone yet because the burial of all the babies the hospital took from their mother’s body in the last year just happened in September. So we sat by the lump of dirt that’s higher than the rest of the ground covering the tiniest casket I’ve ever seen.
Rather than calling family and friends with the time of her arrival and exactly how big she is today, I wonder if anyone even remembers today would be her birthday like they would’ve if she was living.
Today should’ve been the day someone other than me called my husband “dad” for the first time—even though to me, he’s been a dad since July of last year.
365 days from today, we should be throwing a 1st birthday party. But I suspect it’ll be a day much like today instead.
I should have had a baby today. Instead, I’m sitting on the couch writing this to you. You, who may be a friend or may be a stranger, who may know this feeling all too well or who maybe can’t imagine what it’s like. You, who joined me and my husband for just a few minutes in thinking about our child who should’ve come into the world today. And I thank you for that.
If there is a loss mom or dad in your life, please ask about their little angel. If we can’t have them on earth, all we want is for them to never be forgotten. I promise talking about our dead baby doesn’t make us sad. It lets us know that you care about keeping their memory alive, too.
Emily Lindquist