“I just want a baby.”
“I just want my baby.”
I remember telling my husband these words over and over again. He would always reassure me, ” I promise you will get your baby.”
I look down at her against my chest, and she opens her eyes. I feel her little twitches, her tiny fingers moving near my heart. She is here. I have my baby, my beautiful baby.
I’m not holding a niece or nephew, a friend’s baby. I hold mine; I comfort mine. She is well when I hold her. I am her mother, and she is my perfect baby.
“Hi Rowie. Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you so much.”
I wish I could kiss her, but I don’t want to introduce any germs to my delicate daughter. Soon, she will be bombarded with kisses!
She sleeps with her mouth wide open, just like Mommy. She is my precious love.
I knew I was missing something, missing an incredible love. That’s what hurt so much about not having her and Emmanuelle. But I didn’t know the feeling I was missing.
I love her so much, and I hate that she’s in intensive care. I don’t want her to struggle; it scares me. I wish I could have them both; I do have them both, but Emmanuelle is with Jesus. Selfishly, I’m still not okay with that. I want my sweet Emmanuelle here with me too.
I cry every day because of our loss of Emmanuelle. I cry every night when I’m home – and not taking care of my Rowan at the NICU.
I miss being pregnant, sure. I’m supposed to be pregnant. My precious girls were taken from me too soon. They were too small; I hate pre-eclampsia. But having Rowan here, and having held and comforted my Emmanuelle as she went to be with Jesus – I’m so happy to have this love, to feel this love finally.
So I hold my baby tight, and I finally know the love I waited so long for.