Tag Archives: eight month old

Another one bites the dust – 8 months

This morning I woke up and I knew what I’d be writing about.

Hudson would be 8 months old today.

I can hardly wrap my mind around it. Whole babies are made and born in this amount of time (although it isn’t ideal). My sweet SIL will be having her baby at some point this month. Another good friend was due last week and is trying any and all methods to induce labor. My brother and his wife are almost out of the 1st trimester.

But we don’t have our baby, and she would have put all other babies to shame.

I allow myself a little bit of self-pity from time to time, a little “Why me?” moaning and groaning, a little petty and spiteful and small thinking because if I don’t let that out I tend to get a little angst-ridden. My sister and I were talking the other day and I just couldn’t help but unleash this particular beast: “Hudson was prettier than any other newborn ever, and she would be more adorable now than any other 8 month old.”

Every parent thinks that their baby is the most beautiful thing ever created, but I am the only person who thinks this and is absolutely correct.

Today I cross off another milestone, another mini-birthday for our daughter. I embrace the reality of her absence, I yearn for the life I should be living right now, and I miss her so, so much.

Last week, I was chatting with some girlfriends about this whole business of getting pregnant again, and I realized that if I do not get pregnant this month, then my husband and I will not end up having a baby to bring home in 2013.

For some reason, this is wildly unjust in my mind.

For some reason, this is a milestone that fills me with panic.

For some reason, 2013 coming and going without Baby Dub Dos arriving seems too unfair for me to fathom.

I’m getting whole worlds of advice from people about how to make this happen. Lay off the caffeine, reduce your stress level, ease up on the intensity of your workouts, “just have sex for fun” (this is the direct advice of my doctor), practice meditation, repeat a fertility mantra 100 times a day, etc. etc. etc. I could do every one of these things, plus the 1000 things I’ve managed to stumbled upon in various Google searches, and I would still be at the mercy of a headstrong sperm and a lazy egg and a uterus with a mind of its own and a trillion other factors I have absolutely no control over.

Just relax and let it happen.

What about the passing of 2013 would make not having a baby right now more unjust than it already is? Our perfect, precious daughter died. The last number on the calendar being different doesn’t do anything to soften that blow.

I welcome a baby into my fertile womb.

Years changing, time passing, months and milestones between Hudson’s life and death and the present moment, it is nothing but time. Time is not an elixir that softens the pain of Hudson’s absence from our world. Every day, we get further from the moment we lost our baby. Every day, we get closer to the day we welcome our next. And with each day, we are better equipped (from sheer practice) to handle this reality. But it doesn’t make losing Hudson any less awful.

I envision the light of the universe passing through my body, cleansing my mind.

I miss our baby. I have missed her every day for 8 months. I will miss her every day for the rest of my life. It doesn’t get easier, it just gets further away. Another baby won’t make it better. I’m already putting WAY too much pressure on Baby Dub Dos, before he or she is even conceived.

Sometimes, it is good for me to just face these bald facts head on, no spin attached. All the positive affirmations and meditations and lights of the universe could not bring Hudson back to me. All the caffeine-free, less-strenuous activity-filled days between now and Baby Dub Dos won’t put a dent in the fact that Hudson only lived for three days. I desperately long for motherhood as it is meant to be experienced, but the fact of the matter is, I’ll never experience motherhood that way, because my firstborn died.

I’ve gone too long without writing about Hudson, I think. Writing gives me the ability to process, to reconcile my thoughts and my reality, all without the expense of therapy. If I go too long without writing, I actually start to feel tension in my chest. And as I write this today, I can feel that tension begin to release. Facing my darkest thoughts head on is oftentimes the only way to banish them.

I’ll never experience motherhood the way it is meant to be experienced, because my firstborn died.

When that thought is just nagging at the back of my mind, it can eat away at me unaddressed for days on end. But when I type it and stare at it and realize that it is part of my world now, I can deal with it.

I will experience motherhood in a deeper, richer way… because of Hudson.

Life is not fair. In case we needed more evidence: Kanye West and Kim Kardashian will have a daughter in a few months, but I won’t have my one-year old.

And yes, if I don’t get pregnant this month then I won’t have a baby in 2013.

Everybody send all their positive energy and fertile thoughts and “Dear Jesus please put a baby in Erica’s uterus” prayers my way.*

If I don’t get pregnant this month, then I will have Baby Dub Dos in 2014.

What’s another month? What’s another milestone?

It’s only time.

*In all seriousness, I do know that there are many people who pray for the Hubs and I daily, and for this I am so very very thankful. On the days when I have a particularly hard time “not stressing” about the whole business of trying to conceive a sibling for our daughter, I remind myself of the thousands of positive and fertile thoughts being sent in the general direction of my uterus, and I think, “Well, that’s gotta be enough to override my stress, right?” So thanks for taking some of the pressure off. It means more than I could ever tell you.

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