Does your child remind me of my daughter? No, because I know intellectually that she is gone. I will never know if your child reminds me of her, because I never had the opportunity to know her outside of my body. But, your child makes me wonder.
If I'm staring at you and your child it because watching your child makes me wonder what Nora would be like at your child's age. It makes me wonder what I would have been like with her at that age. To see your child mostly, though, makes me jealous.
Yes, I can say it. I am jealous. I am jealous of the fact that you get goodnight kisses and bedtime stories. I am jealous that you get crayon marks on your wall and dirty diapers. I am jealous that you get giggles and hugs. I am jealous that you get first birthday parties and hopefully an adult child to mourn you after your own death.
You get the possibilities of school plays, visits to the park on a sunny day, family dinners and vacations, soccer games, barbie dolls, and toy tricycles. You get sassy teenagers and anxious nights waiting up for your child to return the car safely back into its resting place in the garage. You get baby smells and congratulation cards, instead of a box of ashes and sympathy cards. I am jealous of that. I am jealous of you. And I am not ashamed to say it.
Do you need to fear me or feel sorry for me because of this. No, please don't. Am I going to snatch your child in the middle of the children's museum when you're not looking. No, I am not interested in your child; I want mine. I just can't have her, and I am just jealous that you get yours.
Please cherish yours. Cherish yours in this life, because I can only cherish mine in her death.
If I'm staring at you and your child it because watching your child makes me wonder what Nora would be like at your child's age. It makes me wonder what I would have been like with her at that age. To see your child mostly, though, makes me jealous.
Yes, I can say it. I am jealous. I am jealous of the fact that you get goodnight kisses and bedtime stories. I am jealous that you get crayon marks on your wall and dirty diapers. I am jealous that you get giggles and hugs. I am jealous that you get first birthday parties and hopefully an adult child to mourn you after your own death.
You get the possibilities of school plays, visits to the park on a sunny day, family dinners and vacations, soccer games, barbie dolls, and toy tricycles. You get sassy teenagers and anxious nights waiting up for your child to return the car safely back into its resting place in the garage. You get baby smells and congratulation cards, instead of a box of ashes and sympathy cards. I am jealous of that. I am jealous of you. And I am not ashamed to say it.
Do you need to fear me or feel sorry for me because of this. No, please don't. Am I going to snatch your child in the middle of the children's museum when you're not looking. No, I am not interested in your child; I want mine. I just can't have her, and I am just jealous that you get yours.
Please cherish yours. Cherish yours in this life, because I can only cherish mine in her death.
So, so true. We DO wonder. We ARE jealous. But we do only want OUR children that aren't here.
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this post, you put into words the things I have been feeling. I used this to guide my post today so thank you.
ReplyDelete<3 <3 <3
ReplyDeleteThank you for all you're sharing on this site. I'm still making my way through it, but it's giving me comfort. Earlier this week I gave birth to my twin son and daughter at 22 weeks. They died in my arms and I feel like I'm drowning in the grief and pain. It helps to know someone else has these feelings. I am very grateful.
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