I wrote this after my one week check up: Yesterday was my one week check up. It hurt going into the office for the first time without Brielle. It felt so very wrong. And I was okay, I kept it together, until another new mother came into the empty waiting room. Out of all the chairs she sat right next to me, with her brand new baby girl, and began nursing her. I turned my back to her, held David’s hand, and started crying. Thankfully, the staff is very kind at SeeBaby and the nurse that always takes care of me quickly got me into a room.
David and I struggled to get it together while we waited for the midwife to see us. The midwife was nice, thankfully knew our Brielle had died, and was very kind to us. My incision looked “beautiful” and “perfect.” I’m healing very well and she’s very happy with my progress. I know everyone cares about that, but I don’t. I just don’t care about much anymore. I feel numb.
I needed to pick up a few things at Target, I was in a lot of pain, but I needed a few things. We passed the baby aisle and I saw Christmas bows for infants and sweet little outfits. I leaned on David and cried. I walked through Target crying. David physically held me up when the pain was too much, he held my hand when I was too numb to make a decision or move. He guided me through Target and let me have “retail therapy” as he calls it.
All I could think about as we shopped, was how Brielle should be here. She should have a crib. She should have a Christmas this year. I should have celebrated Christmas with her, why didn’t I do that? We could have done that for her 25th week. I should buy her a stocking, but it has to be perfect. Brielle should be here.
There were screaming babies everywhere, families out with their children, having lunch with their children. Kids in the toy aisle. We left the parking lot and a blonde little girl around seven skipped in the crosswalk in front of us with a big pink balloon and waved hello to us with a huge smile. I waved back and cried. Brielle would be like that little girl.
I miss her. I miss my baby. My arms are empty and my body craves a baby, it knows there is supposed to be a baby here. And she’s not here. I find myself wanting to try again soon, I need a baby. But I don’t want a baby, I want Brielle. I don’t want another little girl or little boy, I want Brielle. I want her silly personality, her strange taste in music, her pure beautiful heart. No one else is like her, and I want her. I miss her. I need her. No one else, just my beautiful Brielle.