It has been 365 days since we said goodbye. The roller coaster that has been the last 12 months has finally pulled up to the station. In some ways it was a fast year, but in other ways it seems like it has taken forever to get here. It seems like another lifetime ago and that it happened to someone other than me. The me of 366 days ago was a completely different person than the me of 365 days ago, which is completely different from the me of today. Hell, the husband and wife team of Brad and I has transformed in ways I never would have thought possible. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to resume life, go to work, eat and sleep like a normal person and yet I’m still here.
I think about Charlotte every day. Probably more like at least once an hour every single day and I’m pretty confident that will be the case for the rest of my life. Sometimes the sadness is still so profound that it takes my breath away. But most of the time I cannot articulate how happy (and relieved) I am in my current life. I realize that not everyone who experiences stillbirth is so blessed to have the year that we have had and I am beyond grateful for so many things. I am so happy that I got pregnant so quickly, that the pregnancy flew by, that I am not pregnant at this first anniversary, but also that I was able to get pregnant and already have a living, gorgeous baby.
I could never picture a baby or child version of Charlotte. I panicked my way through the pregnancy and I think in some ways, I knew how it was going to end. I couldn’t accept it and wouldn’t have believed it had you told me, but I was almost prepared for it. I don’t think, although I’ll never know, if that fact made it any easier. I doubt it, it would be hard for any of this to be any iota of easy.
The last 12 days of last December were the longest of my life. Christmas and the days before and after were hard. There were more tears than I would have imagined shed during those days and nights and every step of the way Brad would hold me as the emotions spilled over. I tried to be myself around family, but it wasn’t easy. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it was necessary because it was the holidays and distractions were welcome. I would be exhausted at the end of the day, but I couldn’t sleep. I had so many conflicting thoughts about life, pregnancy, and whether I would ever be “Heather” again.
This year had so many ups and downs. Most of the lows had to do with work. On my third week of working from home (I had four approved by my boss), the owner of the company questioned why I was “allowed” to work from home. He told my boss that I was “setting a precedent,” and that no one had permission to work remotely, even though there was a girl in my department who had worked in a different state for several years. I had to use vacation days the last week that I wasn’t in the office. Everything that I had done at my job up until that point was questioned and scrutinized while I was out, so I went back to the office earlier than I had planned to. Not even a month back one of the C level guys compared a slap on the wrist to a company in our sector to “showing pictures of dead babies” in a meeting I was attending. I had already started looking for another job by this point.
In April my boss, who was my greatest protector, was fired. Aside from that, I hit my due date, which was hard, but I lived. I thankfully spent it outside of the office. I found out that I have a genetic anomaly called MTHFR which prevents the body from absorbing folic acid correctly. I also learned that there were blood clots in my placenta. Then I was told that Charlotte had Trisomy 21, which completely knocked me off of my feet. Thankfully there were enough ups to make up for the craziness.
Eleven weeks after Charlotte was born, I got a positive pregnancy test. Eight weeks later, after my second ultrasound at my first high risk appointment at 12 weeks, I quit my job. I could not go through another pregnancy no matter the outcome at such a lousy place to work. I found a new, easy, flexible job that wouldn’t question or care if I had four doctor’s appointments in a week. It was a perfect situation. I hit the 23 weeks mark in that pregnancy, and breathed a sigh of relief. I ignored just about everything else, including the fact that I was pregnant. Nine months and two days after we lost Charlotte, we welcomed a new baby into the world. He was born eight weeks early, spent 25 days in the NICU, but he is home, perfect, and wonderful. His existence makes me appreciate everything, even the hardest parts of newborns, that I never got to experience with Charlotte. I’ve said it before, but it warrants mentioning again. He is not supposed to exist. If Charlotte were here today, Ryder wouldn’t be. Their two lives are interwoven in ways that most siblings are not and I am so thankful for both of them.
Maybe Charlotte was never supposed to make it. Maybe I was supposed to be a mom to two boys all along. Maybe Charlotte had to die so I could have Ryder. I’m not sure, and I know I will never know, but my life will never be the same after the past 12 months, for reasons both good and bad.
I have learned that life is not fair. I thought I was one of those people that would skirt through life with deaths from old age, and that for some reason I was exempt from all of the worst parts. I have learned that life is rife with tragedy and that if we live long enough we will experience it. If we don’t live that long, that is a tragedy in itself. Death is never good, never expected (no matter the age) and never welcome. But for the most part, there is enough joy and love to outnumber the pain, and at the end of the day, isn’t that what it’s is all about?
Char, I miss you every day, and will love you forever and I promise no matter what, I will never forget you.
Thank you for giving me the gift of being your mom.