Letter to Chickadee

Dear little one,

Today was your edd. Months ago, which sometimes feels like lifetimes and worlds ago, your daddy and I expected to be holding you in our arms soon. If not by today, then soon. And instead, of course, we learned that that was not to be, and we gave you and our dreams of you up.

I'm sorry that we never got to see you, or hold you, or tell you how much we loved you and wanted you. I'm sorry for regrets we lived through, and for all the pain we suffered when we lost you. But I'm not sorry for the brief experience of you, and being pregnant with you and being your mother and loving you.

I still find it easier to write to you, after all these months, my little baby that never was, than to the baby that very much is, currently growing inside me. I feel more secure with this little one, and every day that passes, the closer we get to moving past when we lost you, I feel better. The nausea that overwhelms me and kicks my ass this week especially reassures me. As afraid as I have been for this little chicken, I feel a peace deep down, and a joy that was not there with you, and an appreciation of our blessing that I would not have were it not for the experience of you.

I still think of you, Chickadee, and miss you - or rather miss what could have been. When I get very afraid, touching your tattoo brings me some peace. But if I'm being honest, loved one, this date crept up on me. I'd known it was coming, but my focus has been so pinpointed on making it past 9 weeks with this little chicken, and on how I am feeling and coping, and just consumed by life in general . . . that I forgot. I was startled to see today's date and a little ashamed when it hit me that the reason it seemed so familiar was because of you.

I think, actually, that it is healthy. Life has gone on, and we've gone with it. We have a new baby to prepare for, one that we love as much as we loved you, and wanted just as badly. This baby will not replace you, nor will he/she live in the shadow of your memory. Already, this little chicken is totally different. I am sad for your loss, but no longer overwhelmed or defined by it. There is a bright spot in our lives, but that doesn't mean you are forgotten.

I haven't been able to write to the chickie yet . . . but maybe that's because this is the letter that needed to be written first. There will always be a place in my heart that is yours alone, but I am fortunate that there is no limit to how large my heart can expand.

We miss you and love you. And we are so grateful for the little chicken that is with us now.

Always -

Mama and Daddy