It's been six days since my littlest girl, Baby J, left us. It's been six days since I felt whole. People thought I was crazy for taking two infants, but when you have two infants, you just make it work. Now with only one, I am painfully aware of our loss day in and day out. There are so many things I want to share about this and after six days, I still don't know where to begin.
Baby J came to us the Saturday following Easter. I picked that tiny, fragile person up at the hospital. Baby J was so very sick and so very fragile. She would scream in pain sometimes for hours. I thought her toes would keep her feet curled into balls permanently. In the beginning it was really hard and I wondered if I'd made a mistake. There were times I was so tired and I was so frustrated and I felt angry at her, but she was just so sick and pitiful. As the pain subsided around 6-8 weeks after we got her, her episodes became more intermittent and her personality began to develop.
Baby J has the sweetest disposition. She knows and preferred her mommy, this mommy. She would smile and giggle like nothing else. Her little, soft spirit seems to say "love me please if you will." And I do. I love her completely, whole-heartedly. I miss her like one might miss their arm after a tragic accident.
Six days later, I still wake up to feed her around 3am. She's not here for me to feed though. No more do I get to snuggle that tiny girl who waited for me to put her to bed. No more do I get to hear the beautiful sound of that little gigglebox. What I wouldn't give to hold her again. What I wouldn't give just to have said goodbye.
Like most tragedies, Baby J left us without warning. Without an inkling, in the stillness she was snatched away. I don't begrudge her grandparents taking her really, I only begrudge the system for my ill-preparation and the lack of thought that left us with no goodbye.
Alot of people have tried to find words of comfort. Let me help, there are none. There are no words to comfort a parent for the loss of their child. It doesn't matter how that child came to be theirs, it is the same. It doesn't matter how long that parent was able to parent their child, that love is so strong and unconditional. You cannot comfort us in this loss, so just listen and try to empathize. Please don't try and belittle it. Please don't try and draw comparisons. Please don't remind me that we signed up for foster care. We lost a child; it is devastating.
Baby J will forever be our girl, though we were only lucky enough to be her parents for her first four months. I will forever think of her for she has marked me for the rest of my life. My only comforting thought is that maybe, though she won't remember her first family, that we helped her for the rest of her life; she came to us so very sick but she left us happy and healthy.
It is that last thought that leaves me open to the possibility of doing it again, of the possibility of beign broken-hearted again. Baby J needed us. She needed a family that would commit to loving her and helping her get well. Baby J is one of many babies who are unfortunately born with this very same need. I miss Baby J every hour of every day and I have for the last six days, but I might just do it again...