"Baby"
A couple of months ago, out of the blue, my daughter Zo touched my tummy and said, "baby!" She must have heard us talking about the baby, touching my tummy...not sure where else that would have come from.
"That's right," we encouraged her. "Baby. That's your little brother or sister in there."
And with that encouragement, touching my tummy and saying, "baby" became a regular thing, 3 or 4 times a day.
Which was super cute and charming, until we found out we were going to lose our baby.
The first 24 hours after I knew, it was so painful to have Zo say, "baby."
And then for some reason, something switched in my mind, and I was glad she was saying "baby." "That's right, baby," I'd say back to her, wanting it to be true for as long as possible.
And then after Hunter was gone, Zo would touch my tummy and say, "baby," and I'd say, "No. Your baby's name is Hunter and she's not in Mommy's tummy anymore. She's in Heaven."
Zo is still touching my belly and saying, "baby." I dread the day that it stops.
This morning she was doing it, and Luke was there and he did it too--while it's common for Zo it's very unusual for him.
I got out a book that I got from the grief group lending library, a book for little kids called, "We were going to have a baby, but we got an angel instead." I read them the book this morning because it seemed like the right thing to do, like it might explain what happened to them. They had me read it three times in a row.
I want there to be a baby in my tummy.
When Zo and Luke stop saying it, it's like the fact that I don't will really be true, even though I know it's true anyway.
There are lots of little things like that. Like I got a pedicure when I was pregnant and I don't want to take the polish off. Like the book I started when I was pregnant, I don't want to finish it because then all this will really be true. Like the fact that I love fall, but I hate that the seasons are changing because it's no longer summer which means I don't have my baby anymore...one spring and one summer, that's all I got with her.
All this is so hard, you guys. So hard.
Every time Zo pats my tummy and says, "baby," I feel like it may be the last, and I don't want it to be the last.
I know this is a silly thing to obsess on. But there it is.
XOXO
