I taught middle school for 3 years in Colorado, a lifetime ago. I loved those kids, but there were certainly kids I bonded with more than others. (And teachers always said they didn't have favorites... I wondered if that meant my parents actually had a favorite too...)
There's a few select students I keep in touch with, almost 10 years later.
One is Daniel.
Daniel wrote me right after Lydie died. He told me he was so sorry and my blog was beautiful. He said he cried.
It appears I did not write back. I received so many messages in those early days; they were overwhelming.
He wrote again today.
Yesterday, his cousin's daughter was born. Still. Stillborn.
This is the first time I have heard of a stillbirth after my own. And it almost angered me. Like Lydia just died within me, and you still haven't figured this out yet? It's still happening? Didn't anyone realize how devastating this loss is, how completely senseless it is, and make it STOP HAPPENING?
I felt so sorry to hear that another mother has lost her child. And so close to Christmas. And so close to her December 23rd due date. I know how overwhelming the grief is, how impossible it is to function in those early days, how when the shock wears off a bit the pain really seeps in.
Daniel said he'd like to put her in touch with me. That he'd like us to tell each other our stories and share our pain.
There's this whole community of baby-loss mamas, and I hate that it's still growing. Hate that 6 weeks later, I'm offering support to some other poor mother. But at the same time, I feel like I'm a voice for this community. I want to talk about this. What happened to our babies, who never even got a chance. How perfect they were, how much we love them, how we can't imagine this life without them. And how we're forced to.