Dear Little Two,
It’s not your fault…
It was too soon; all of this was too soon. I was just starting to get happy again. I feared what was next for Jarrett and me.
Jarrett bent down to hold me as my body shook on the bathroom floor. I couldn’t peel my eyes from the positive pregnancy test. Jarrett grabbed my face and made me look him in the eyes. “It’s okay.” He kissed my forehead and then locked eyes with me again, “Look at me, we are going to be okay. Do you believe me?” My bottom lip curled, and I nodded. He helped me get up off the floor, wiped away my tears and we went to the kitchen to eat breakfast. Jarrett looked at me from across the table and grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze, “We will be fine. We won’t get our hopes up and we won’t let this come between us.”
Bojangles and hand holding, that’s how I will remember this day.
I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t get it out of my head that I had another little human growing inside of me. How far along was I? I had to know so I decided to get a prediction pregnancy test. The results, 2-4 weeks. You were still so small, and I was still so wounded. Jarrett and I didn’t talk about you much, but I wanted to so badly. The problem was, if I talked about you, I would fall in love and I couldn’t allow it to happen again…but it did. I couldn’t stop it. I was secretly already in love with you so much. I barely knew you.
Jarrett wouldn’t understand our secret bond. He didn’t need to know about our little talks that we would have in the shower. Our little tummy pats and rubs. I wanted to feel you move so badly. I knew it was still so early, but I yearned for it so much. I just needed to feel the butterflies to know that you were there. You would help me get over all the hurt that I felt before, you would fill that hole that was in my heart, you would be the one that would love me unconditionally, but I was wrong. You were the next to leave me.
I was at work when I saw it. I had just gotten back to the shop from my sales route and started to have some cramping. I went to the bathroom and saw the blood. Not much, but enough to cause worry. I gathered my composure and told my manager I needed to head home a little early. My breath was getting shorter and shorter as I finally made it out to my car before breaking down.
I was alone, again.
I cussed angrily all the way home while the tears streamed down my face once again. That familiar feeling of heartbreak was creeping back over my shoulder. At that moment, I lost all faith and hope. My mind began to wander back to all the messages and “encouraging” words spoken about our first loss.
“GOD has a plan for you both.”
“Put it in GOD’s hands.”
“If it is meant to be, HE will make it so.”
My face was red, and I screamed as I replayed those words in my head! Little Two, I could not help it; you were mine. Once again, just like the first, you were being ripped away from me. This was a sick joke, right? The Universe is playing a sick and twisted joke. Where the fuck is our happy ending? Why does this keep happening? I was rambling in my head and looking for an answer but the ones that were being “provided” by others were not satisfying me. They words stung and felt more like a “life lesson” than “kind words.” They pierced my already broken heart and I was tired of being a part of “GOD’s plan.”
All the messages from our friends and family, it wasn’t their fault I was mad at them. As human beings we feel we must reach out to the ones that are hurting yet sometimes don’t always know what to say. Especially when it’s a situation that makes us uncomfortable or something we have not been through personally, but we still try to reach out to comfort. I see that now, but the anger and hurt ruled over my compassion and gratefulness.
I wanted you to stay with me, I NEEDED you to stay with me. We were supposed to do so many things together. I never saw you, I never got to hear your tiny little heartbeat.
Why do you have to go so soon?
Please stay with me.
Little Two, the physical pain that I endured that night while you passed out of my body was much easier than telling Jarrett, once again, that he wouldn’t be a father.
That night, I lost hope, I lost faith, I lost myself and I lost you.
Give, Little One, a kiss from mommy and daddy.
Goodbye, Little Two, I love you.
Dear Little Three, Four & Five….