“It is only when we are very happy that we can bear to gaze merrily upon the vast and limitless expanse of water, rolling on and on with such persistent, irritating monotony, to the accompaniment of our thoughts, whether grave or gay. When they are gay, the waves echo their gaiety; but when they are sad, then every breaker, as it rolls, seems to bring additional sadness, and to speak to us of hopelessness and of the pettiness of all our joys”. –Baroness Orczy

The Baroness had a point. The ocean is an excellent metaphor for sadness and grief, or on the flip side, happiness and joy. In both instances, intense emotions sweep you off of your feet, twirl you around until you cannot take it anymore and then you are dropped, grounded again. For me right now, the waves are of sadness, anger, and sometimes despair. While both Dustin and I have been working diligently to remain positive and to focus on doing good for others, it does not mean that we do not come up against these waves. And I know that other baby lost moms and dads will agree that there are ok days, and then there are days that are definitely not ok.

A few people have sent me messages recently, saying things to the effect of “I’m glad you are doing so much better” and “It’s good to see you getting over it, he’s in a better place anyways”. And I know, I know that these are coming from a loving place. But to me, I don’t know that I feel like I am doing better, when to me it is more like I have just found a way to cope that works for me. There is no getting over the loss of your child, anymore than there would be getting over the loss of your arm or leg. Your child is a part of you, and you love that child from the very beginning and you need them in your life because they make you whole. And when their life is cut short, you lose not only a tremendous part of your heart, you lose all of the memories you would have made with them.

I posted a Ronald Reagan quote not long ago on facebook which read “A wife who loses a husband is called a widow. A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A child who loses his parents is called an orphan. There is no word for a parent who loses a child. That’s how awful the loss is.” Mr. Reagan makes a good point. When you lose your child, you lose your identity in society.

I get really angry when people don’t acknowledge Jack. Because I feel like they are disregarding that I am a mother. When in every way I am very much a mom. I gave birth through one of the most painful operations ever. I carried my son for almost 6 whole months. And we did everything we could for him then, and we still do now.  If I am not a mother, what am I?

I guess the whole point of this post is that, parents who lose babies are still parents. And that even when they seem like everything is going fine and that life has “moved on” for them, it hasn’t. It never will. While the pain might one day be less apparent, I will always carry the ache in my heart that was left when Jack died.