It’s easy to think about how unfair all of this is. It’s easy to get angry and rail at an uncaring universe for giving me this burden that I don’t feel that I’m equipped to handle. It’s easy to feel bitter and vanquished, to feel hopeless.
It’s harder to remember the gift that I have been granted. The ability to bear children is a gift, and it’s not one that everyone is given. I have friends and family who have struggled with infertility, miscarriages, losses. As a mother, I was always intensely sympathetic to them, but now, as someone facing such a terrible loss, I can actually empathize. No matter what James’ condition, I have been given the gift of being his mother. I have been able to carry him for the past 8 months, felt him kick and roll within me, listened to his heart, seen his sweet face on the ultrasound week after week. He is mine and I am his. I will get to birth him and be his mother, for however long I have with him. He will always be my son, whether he is here or not.
I am so lucky to have that – even though it comes with tremendous grief, tremendous fears.
It’s a strange paradox to carry within me. In 8 days, I will meet my son. I am so excited to meet him, but the closer I get to his birth, the closer I am to his death. I both wish for the 8 days to pass like a sigh and wish for them to last forever.
I love you, James.