Seven years ago today, I was 22.5 weeks pregnant with my first child. I was young. I was healthy. I was naive. I was worried about the cost of daycare.
Seven years ago today, I walked into a perinatologist's office with my husband. I sat in the waiting room hoping that I'd find out that the alleged IUGR that my baby was experiencing was nothing more than perhaps an issue with blood flow. Or maybe my OB had been wrong the day before on my sonogram and her measurements were off.
Seven years ago today, I felt my stomach sink as the doctor, sounding and looking sullen, said upon finishing with the ultrasound, "we need to talk".
Seven years ago today, I listed to this doctor run through a laundry list of problems that my baby was facing. IUGR, echogenic kidneys, clenched fists, restricted blood flow, small jaw bone, the list went on.
Seven years ago today, my husband and I said a thousand things to each other without muttering a word as we squeezed each other's hands while the doctor penetrated my belly with a large needle in order to run some tests. My belly where out beautiful baby was living, kicking, swimming safely.
Seven years ago today, I watched as they pulled amniotic fluid from my womb. The same fluid that my baby had just been swimming in.
Seven years ago today, I walked out of that doctor's office and to my car and cried the loudest cry I have ever heard.
Seven years ago today, my normal as I knew it was over.
Today, my life is hectic. Today, I do get to worry about daycare. Notice the word GET. That was intentional. What a gift to have to worry about daycare cost.
Today, I live in a world in which my first baby does not physically exist, and never will.
Today, I have 2 beautiful daughters filling my house with love, laughter, joy, frustration (that's right, I said it), and magic.
Today, it is never lost on my what a gift all of my children are.
Today, seven years later, that excruciating, terrifying pain that I felt that day and the 7 weeks after, and then the days, weeks, months following the loss of Marco, is gone.
Today, I know that, while the pain is gone, I will never ever forget it. I will never forget the silence in the exam room as my amniotic fluid was drawn up in the syringe, the sadness in my husband's eyes as he consoled me in bed when I told him I was scared, the sound of my cry and subsequently my mom's when I called her with the news, the tears of my also-pregnant sister as she listened to me tell her what was happening. Those memories are burned into my soul. They'll always be as fresh as if it all happened yesterday. Those memories remind me that no matter how wonderful my life is now, nothing can change the fact that I had to say goodbye to my son at 29 weeks. Forever. Those memories, those burn marks in my soul, they also remind me of how extremely lucky I am to have the life I have now, with my husband and 2 full-of-life kiddos.
Seven years ago, I wore the exact same sandals that I wore today. I was wearing them when my heart broke into a million pieces. These sandals walked the saddest walk from the perinatologists office to my car to my house. Today, seven years later, these sandals walked to pick up my girls as they returned from school, their faces beaming with happiness.
In just seven weeks, it will have been seven years since Marco made his entrance to and swift exit from the world.
Marco, I cannot believe it has been seven years since our world stopped moving. Thank you for continuing to teach me as you always do. You are with me baby, every day. And you're with Lucia, Annabelle and your daddy too. We love you, sweet boy.
What a beautiful, heartbreaking post. Marco absolutely knows how much you love him. He lives on in his sisters' laughter, their love for you and for each other. He's there in the sunshine that warms your shoulders and the rain that washes away the dust.
The way you honor Marco, the way you remember him and mother him is a beautiful thing. The way you love his sisters and face every single day is beautiful and inspiring.
So much love to you,
Marco knew then and still knows today.. only love. Your Love. His Daddy's love. And all that love flows back to you and to his Daddy and his sisters. Big hugs to you my dear friend. You are teaching all of us about grace and gratitude each time you share Marco with us. Thank you.
Much love and many hugs,
So beautifully written.
Libby, sending you hugs as you approach this time of year with strength and grace. Your Marco must be feeling the love from you, Bruno, and his sibling sisters. I am smiling as you are finding joy in even the most frustrating of mommy moments:) Those sandals are such a reminder and I hope it was healing to wear them in your present. Even something like sandals can bring it all back, but I know that he is never far from your thoughts:)
I wanted to wish Lucia a very happy belated birthday! I hope she had a very special day with family and friends. I bet little sis was eyeing the cupcakes:)
Such a well written yet heartbreaking post. I love that you remember Marco in your family, and know that he is with you always. It's interesting what is considered a mundane task or even an aggravating hurdle, until the opportunity is ripped away from you.
Love and hugs as you approach Marco's anniversary.
Beautiful, touching post. I remember too fretting too about so many things and how it seems like such a privelege to get to do those things now. Hugs to you. Nicki
Such a beautifully written post. Thinking of you! That is amazing symbolism wearing the same sandals seven years later.
March of Dimes fights for the health of all moms and babies. We're advocating for policies to protect them. We're working to radically improve the health care they receive. We're pioneering research to find solutions. We're empowering families with the knowledge and tools to have healthier pregnancies. By uniting communities, we're building a brighter future for us all.
Privacy, Terms, and Notices
© Privacy, terms and notices