I’m having a rough day so far today. I opened this page to write to you, and the tears just started rolling before I even started writing anything.
I just feel so lonely. I know that I’m not alone, and so many people are here for me, but they didn’t know you like I did. To most people, you’re the baby I lost. They knew you only as my growing belly. But to me…to me you’re Jonah. You’re a person separate from me. I got to hold you and watch you get weighed and measured, because you were a baby. My baby.
Grieving makes me feel so isolated. Besides your daddy, it’s impossible for anyone to really know what I’m going through and what I’m feeling. Yes, there are too many other women and families who have gone through stillbirth, but their pain is unique, as is mine. Every stillbirth mom’s story is different, and our missing babies one of a kind. We can commiserate, but not truly understand.
When your grandma (my mom) died unexpectedly 2.5 years ago, there were so many of us who mourned her. Her husband, her parents, her children, her grandchildren, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends…the list goes on. We all came together to mourn her loss, and it was beautiful.
This, though, is so different. Yes, there are many close family members and friends who are mourning you along with us, but it’s just not the same. They didn’t truly know you, my Jonah…nobody really could have.
I’m just so sad for you. So sad that you don’t get to live. Yet the world marches on, and I have to find a way to go with it; to rejoin the “normal” life. For me, though, there’s a new normal – one where I’ll always have a lonely piece of me that’s grieving for you.