It was this time of year that I cried constantly and my heart broke over and over again each time I saw a baby or a pregnant woman. It’s just a few weeks before my little Katie would have been born. It’s been 7 years and still I think of what life would have been like with her. I was supposed to be infertile. I’d been told since I was 15 that I’d never get pregnant naturally. When I got pregnant out of the blue at 42 I was beside myself. Over joyed!! The one thing I’d wanted most was finally being given to me. At 12 weeks, the doctors told me the pregnancy was ectopic (in my fallopian tubes) and I had to terminate the pregnancy. Without doing so neither of us would survive. Katie wasn’t destined to come into this world. Her memory and my hopes and dreams for a life with her remain.

From the moment I even thought I was pregnant I knew it was a girl. I could feel it in my bones. I called her Katie after my grandmother. She would have been Katelyn Rose. I tried at first not to name the baby, especially after the miscarriage. It felt odd to have a name for a baby that was never born. Not name her was denying that I’d lost her. Denying that I’d loved and wanted her. So, I named her.

Sadly, in our culture losing a baby prior to birth isn’t dealt with. There’s no room to really grieve. I think the idea is painful and awkward, so we simply brush it under the rug and pretend like it never happened. Except it did. For the parents there is a major loss… no matter what stage of the pregnancy. People are incredibly insensitive when talking to a woman following a miscarriage. The most common thing said is “You can always get pregnant again”. These are the worst words of all. Dismissing the life lost as totally irrelevant and the hopes and dreams the parents had for this child as totally inconsequential. There is a level of assumption embedded in that statement which is far more painful than dismissing her loss. My aunt had 7 miscarriages before giving birth to my cousin. Each miscarriage more emotionally painful than the last. And there are women like myself who can’t get pregnant again. I was warned that with my medical history a pregnancy would kill me on top of being very unlikely. My aunt and I are far from special in this regard.

I don’t grieve the life I missed with Katie anymore. Ohh… that lasted a couple years. Especially through what would have been her infant and toddler years. Grief passed and a wondering of what it would be like has taken its place. I wonder what kind of mother I’d have been. I wonder what she would have looked like. She would have been bi-racial (black/white). What would it be like raising a bi-racial child in an almost all white neighborhood and 2 white parents? In the midst of the pandemic there are times I’m grateful not be parenting a 6 year old sheltered in place. How would my life be different? Would I still have married Daddy if I’d had her?

There is a passing of time that occurs marking the years and imaging what she would be like that this new age. I can’t help but tear up as I imagine what she would look like at 6. There is no way to think or talk about her without remembering her father. In my heart she is only mine. For a million reasons which I won’t go into now. Katie is my little girl.

I hope that Katie’s spirit is watching over me… waiting for me… wherever that is. I like to think that all of our relatives are with her and she feels as loved as she is in my heart. Perhaps one day I can hold my little girl in whatever form that takes.

A big hug to all those moms reading this who know this pain. ♥