A letter for new moms joining my world.....
Welcome to mommy hood,
Only, I know you don’t feel like a mommy right now. You don’t really want to read what I have to say, or listen to what anyone else has to say. Everyone around you seems so upbeat, telling you that ‘this’ will be ok. You hear advice, some of it is just plain terrible while other bits might actually soothe you. Nothing can come close to touching how you feel as you mourn the loss of the child you thought you were carrying. In fact, wishing things away sounds really good. The ‘Welcome to Holland instead of Italy’ nonsense doesn’t really help either. To be honest, nothing does.
I hear ya, I was there too.
I will tell you that your emotional state does not have to improve in a day or a week or even a month. Take the time, cry, and get angry, you have every right to because nothing went as you envisioned. You have earned a front row seat of an emotional roller coaster. Guess what, it is not a fun ride; and I know there are much better things to be doing. I mean seriously, how could this be happening to you, right? This type of thing happens to other people. When the statistics said 1 in 100, you were most definitely not the 1. You are never the one, bad things just don’t happen to you. You have always been able to control your destiny.
I hear ya, I was there too.
In a while, your doctor will be sending you home with this baby you did not dream of. The nurses all comment that getting out of the hospital will help you. Not really, the thought only creates more anxiety. You think about the baby’s room at home that you so perfectly decorated and how it was not intended for this ‘broken’ baby. You think about leaving the walls of this hospital, and how you will face reality. How will you tell your family? What will your friends think? Will strangers on the sidewalk notice? And most important of all, you think about if you can ever possibly love this baby?
I hear ya, I was there too.
I am not going to sugar coat this news. It just plain sucks. What I can do, is attempt to make some promises to you.
Accepting your child takes time, your own time. Your baby has spent nine months breathing to the rhythm of your heart, listening to your soothing voice, and has bonded with you. I promise, no matter what happens, your baby has already chosen to wholeheartedly love you unconditionally, every inch of the mess you are right now. Your baby will continue to patiently love you while you heal. I promise, this baby will be your biggest fan.
Every breath you’re taking is painful, and in time, I promise, you will be able to breathe again. The first three months are extremely tough; you give your all to your baby but don’t really receive anything in return. There will come a time, around month four, when your finally baby sustains eye contact, smiles back at you, and I promise you will totally start to feel like a mommy again.
Before you know it, your baby will learn to snuggle into the nape of your neck and wrap their little arm around your shoulder just like you wanted, and I promise that hug will send warm butterflies to your heart. In more time, your baby will want mommy’s tender hands to fix an injury and I can promise you, your body will tingle as you nurse their wound. Your baby will do all the things that make you feel like the worlds greatest mommy; they will smile, roll over, crawl, walk, skip, laugh, pick flowers, ride a bike, catch insects, play in mud, go to dances, and graduate.
One last promise.
A few years down the road, you will grab that single creased hand of your child, look into their almond eyes, hug that floppy body, and feel their murmuring heart beat against your chest and I PROMISE life will be good.
You will discover a love within you that you didn’t know existed and this horrendous day, today, will be just one very tiny spec of a moment in time.
Did you know that approximately 70-80% of miscarriages are due to chromosomal defects in the embryo? You are blessed, you are the lucky one, your baby survived. Listen up new mommy, your baby needs you. What you don’t realize yet is how much you need your baby. Go talk to them, hold them, and at least go through the motions. Your baby needs this.
I understand your goal was to deliver this child and love them unconditionally. I also understand that today you feel like you are a very a long way from achieving your goal. Everyday you will take two steps forward and one step backwards but in time, your own time, I guarantee, you WILL reach your final destination.
Breathe, and absorb every tidbit of this journey because I promise, it will make you a better person by teaching you to love deeper and shine brighter. Your heavy tears of rain will soon create the most beautiful rainbow.
Lots of love new mommy,
Jamie
P.S. Please tuck my note away for now but read it again in 6 months and again when your baby turns 1. I pray all my promises to you came true.
Only, I know you don’t feel like a mommy right now. You don’t really want to read what I have to say, or listen to what anyone else has to say. Everyone around you seems so upbeat, telling you that ‘this’ will be ok. You hear advice, some of it is just plain terrible while other bits might actually soothe you. Nothing can come close to touching how you feel as you mourn the loss of the child you thought you were carrying. In fact, wishing things away sounds really good. The ‘Welcome to Holland instead of Italy’ nonsense doesn’t really help either. To be honest, nothing does.
I hear ya, I was there too.
I will tell you that your emotional state does not have to improve in a day or a week or even a month. Take the time, cry, and get angry, you have every right to because nothing went as you envisioned. You have earned a front row seat of an emotional roller coaster. Guess what, it is not a fun ride; and I know there are much better things to be doing. I mean seriously, how could this be happening to you, right? This type of thing happens to other people. When the statistics said 1 in 100, you were most definitely not the 1. You are never the one, bad things just don’t happen to you. You have always been able to control your destiny.
I hear ya, I was there too.
In a while, your doctor will be sending you home with this baby you did not dream of. The nurses all comment that getting out of the hospital will help you. Not really, the thought only creates more anxiety. You think about the baby’s room at home that you so perfectly decorated and how it was not intended for this ‘broken’ baby. You think about leaving the walls of this hospital, and how you will face reality. How will you tell your family? What will your friends think? Will strangers on the sidewalk notice? And most important of all, you think about if you can ever possibly love this baby?
I hear ya, I was there too.
I am not going to sugar coat this news. It just plain sucks. What I can do, is attempt to make some promises to you.
Accepting your child takes time, your own time. Your baby has spent nine months breathing to the rhythm of your heart, listening to your soothing voice, and has bonded with you. I promise, no matter what happens, your baby has already chosen to wholeheartedly love you unconditionally, every inch of the mess you are right now. Your baby will continue to patiently love you while you heal. I promise, this baby will be your biggest fan.
Every breath you’re taking is painful, and in time, I promise, you will be able to breathe again. The first three months are extremely tough; you give your all to your baby but don’t really receive anything in return. There will come a time, around month four, when your finally baby sustains eye contact, smiles back at you, and I promise you will totally start to feel like a mommy again.
Before you know it, your baby will learn to snuggle into the nape of your neck and wrap their little arm around your shoulder just like you wanted, and I promise that hug will send warm butterflies to your heart. In more time, your baby will want mommy’s tender hands to fix an injury and I can promise you, your body will tingle as you nurse their wound. Your baby will do all the things that make you feel like the worlds greatest mommy; they will smile, roll over, crawl, walk, skip, laugh, pick flowers, ride a bike, catch insects, play in mud, go to dances, and graduate.
One last promise.
A few years down the road, you will grab that single creased hand of your child, look into their almond eyes, hug that floppy body, and feel their murmuring heart beat against your chest and I PROMISE life will be good.
You will discover a love within you that you didn’t know existed and this horrendous day, today, will be just one very tiny spec of a moment in time.
Did you know that approximately 70-80% of miscarriages are due to chromosomal defects in the embryo? You are blessed, you are the lucky one, your baby survived. Listen up new mommy, your baby needs you. What you don’t realize yet is how much you need your baby. Go talk to them, hold them, and at least go through the motions. Your baby needs this.
I understand your goal was to deliver this child and love them unconditionally. I also understand that today you feel like you are a very a long way from achieving your goal. Everyday you will take two steps forward and one step backwards but in time, your own time, I guarantee, you WILL reach your final destination.
Breathe, and absorb every tidbit of this journey because I promise, it will make you a better person by teaching you to love deeper and shine brighter. Your heavy tears of rain will soon create the most beautiful rainbow.
Lots of love new mommy,
Jamie
P.S. Please tuck my note away for now but read it again in 6 months and again when your baby turns 1. I pray all my promises to you came true.
