I know you’re in pain right now. I know you don’t understand how the world could possibly need you. I know your life isn’t where you thought it’d be at this point. I know you feel invisible. Let me be with you, let me speak these words into your ear and soothe your suffering.
Let’s begin with the easy part: You are a great teacher. So your MAT isn’t finished yet? Big deal. You love your kids from the heart like they’re your own. Every child knows they can talk to you about anything without judgement. Some who have nothing at home know they they have you. And that is everything. Some days you raise your voice? We all do. Some days you’re at a loss as to how you’re going to get through the day? The responsibility that lies on your shoulders is immense, that would be hard for anyone. The fact that you’re sitting at home worrying about it shows just how much you care.
Second portion of the easy part: Your body is NOT disgusting. You harbored not one, but two beautiful lives inside of it and that takes some time to adjust from. You may have gained weight, but do you regret the bagels you ate to appease your son’s depends? The cookies and milk your daughter had to have? The ramen that was the only thing you could get and keep down after her death? No. These things meant something and are attached to memories that will stay with you forever. You’re eating fruits and vegetables again and drinking more water than tea. You’re trying and that matters. I’m more concerned with the fact that you’re still alive and that your beautiful body isn’t six feet underground like you planned it to be by now.
Now comes the hard part…your babies. My dear, sweet, beautiful friend. Words can not describe how much I want your pain to stop. How I wish I could hold you close and tell you that your anxiety and depression are liars. The world does needs you .You did NOT kill your babies. You are NOT filled with death. Oh, dear one. It’s okay to cry for Sayre and Aurora, to ache to hold them close. You love them. That’s right, I said love as in present tense. Your babies may be dead, but you still love them. Just by being alive, you honor them. You share their stories and keep their memories alive, you are a proud mother. And, yes, you are a mother. I know you feel betwixt and between ,neither maiden nor mother, but you birthed two tiny souls. Their births may not have been what you envisioned or hoped, but you birthed your two babies. Remember the blanket you made for Sayre and clutched in your hand while they brought him out of you? He was wrapped in that and buried with it. He was buried wrapped in a physical reminder of his mother’s love. And what about how you held your belly and talked to your daughter before her birth? How you told her how loved and wanted she was? All of the times you talked to them while stroking your belly, telling them you loved them and how excited you were to meet them? They knew they were loved. how could they not? Every breath you took, every bite of food you ate, and every bedtime story read was a show of how much you loved your babies.
And now for this: your body has not failed you. Your worth as a woman and human being does not come from this. You give so. much. to the world. Your accomplishments aren’t small, especially for a girl from a small town. You are not the mother of death. You are not cursed. I know you’re bitter toward anyone who gets to birth live babies and hold them. That’s completely normal and natural. And, no, that doesn’t make you a bad person. You’ve been through some stuff, you’ve earned the right to feel and process your emotions.
Finally, I know you feel alone and invisible. In a crowded room, you can feel completely isolated. I’m so sorry. You light up a room and you are far from invisible. Sweet girl you are so strong. You matter.
Listen to me and know that you are never alone, I am here. Please don’t leave the world without your shining light. It’s okay to break sometimes, just means you’ll be put back together even stronger than before.