I haven’t been able to bring myself to write in a few weeks. To be honest, I’ve just been sad. I can’t tell you exactly what’s wrong, other than that I’m so deeply, deeply sad because I miss my daughter. I keep seeing a quote that says something along the lines of “If I could love you back to life, you’d still be here.” I feel this so much. I love her so beyond words, so beyond my own understanding — that I know she would be here if love could bring her back.
I was very fearful of this period when Maddie first died. When the dust settles. When the Earth would keep spinning, even though my world was shattered.
It seems that life keeps moving, faster and faster. Time doesn’t stop. Responsibilities don’t stop. We still have to work. We still have to go to Costco and the gym and get the mail and get the oil changed and pay bills. People still get pregnant and have babies and most of their babies will grow up.
I’m scared that people will forget Maddie, even though I try to keep her alive in any way that I can. I’m scared I’ll forget pieces of her, even though I’ve written them all down. I don’t want to forget anything about her. I don’t want her smell to wear off of her blanket, or to forget exactly what she sounded like when she cried or cooed. This feels like losing her all over, when I think about these fears.
The parts that hurt most right now are the empty ones. My empty arms on the airplane this weekend, when she would have been in my lap. The emptiness where a beach tent would have sat to keep her out of the sun at the beach. Our silent room at night, without white noise or her cries. I feel this deep, endless emptiness and I miss my baby girl so much. Why can’t she be here to fill those spaces?
It will have been four months on Thursday. It feels like a lifetime. I hate that time goes on, and my daughter doesn’t. We’re growing and changing and she never will. I find myself daydreaming every day, in almost every situation of what it would be like if she were here. What she would be doing, how she would be interacting with us and Greyson, what outfits she’d be fitting into now. I clicked on an ad for Halloween baby outfits the other day, pretending — for just a second — she would be here for me to buy one for her (and a matching bow, of course).
In truth, I’ve been compartmentalizing quite a bit these past few weeks. I read a book, play a game, bury myself in email if it gets too heavy. I’m scared to break down, scared to cry because I don’t know if the tears will stop. I know they will, and I know they will come again. It’s just too much to feel it all sometimes, I guess.
I’m sorry that this post is sad. I don’t want to make anyone sad by posting it, but I just need to get it out. I do still have so many moments of happiness and all things considered, I know I’m so lucky and have a beautiful life that I’m thankful for. I just wish my daughter was here to experience it with us, physically.
Thanks for reading, as always, and thanks for walking with me and my boys on our journey. It means the world.
Missing you, Maddie. Always.
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Please know you are not alone. I am here. My daughter has gone through this. Maddie will never be forgotten. Much love, Jackie
You are not alone!!! Everything you feel is normal it’s okay to not be okay!!! No one person mourns the same! You just learn to live with the pain. The pain is the reminder that they were here and still live on.. It’s okay to move on. My boys would have been 12 this yr. I still celebrate them…! God bless you and your family and I pray you find inner peace! Hugs
This is exactly how I feel right now. Yesterday was my 17 day old baby Boy’s 2nd month in Heaven. Time doesn’t really heal. Sometimes you’re doing okay, sometimes you’re not. As what my husband would always say, “At least we have someone to look forward to when we’ll be in Heaven. Bec we know he is there, waiting for us.” That’s the only thing that makes me going. God bless our grieving hearts.
Your words speak power and truth. Your daughter will always be pure love. There’s a children’s book that someone wrote, when their own child passed too young. I believe it’s called “I’ll love you forever and my baby you’ll be”. My heart aches, right along side yours tonight. Tears may come at night, but may peace be upon you in the morning. Thank you for sharing your beautiful little girl with us. Maddie, your Momma will be here for you, always.
It’s the heartwrenching letters like this that keep me going as a Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer. No child like Maddie should ever be forgotten….no mother’s empty arms should be minimized. Each little Angel is a Gift from God….and we, as the photographers, struve to capture each memory we can…knowing they will grow more precious as the weeks and years roll on. Beautiful eyes, sweet tiny little noses, perfect little ears…baby’s fingerwrapped around Mommy and Daddy’s…tiny toes with parent’s wedding rings….precious little feet held in Mommy’s hand…..so many emotions, dreams and hope captured to last a Lifetime. My heart is full of love for each Angel baby and their parents.
Maddie will always live in your heart. I am here if you need me, you’re not alone. I lost my son 12 years ago, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. Losing a child is the worst pain anyone could ever experience. I am praying for you and your family. May you have peace ??❤️
Thank you for putting into words what I could not figure out I myself was feeling. I lost my infant daughter on March 2nd after a beautiful hour spent with her, and lately I have just been sad. It is ok to not be okay, but I also have those fleeting thoughts in times of happiness “is it too early to be happy?” “Am I already forgetting her?” I pray for your healing and relief, and am in awe of your strength to put your feelings into words.
Thank You