A Letter To Myself At 4 Weeks

By Alison Ferrara

Dear New Momma,

You are about to embark on the scariest, most heartbreaking, most beautiful journey of your life.  You think you know this now.  You think that when you saw those two lines you knew what to expect.  You read the books and know you’ll read more.  You will follow their advice and go beyond it reading medical journals to make sure you have the most updated information.  But you have absolutely no idea what you are about to face.

You’ll make a plan to tell your husband in a cute way that you are finally pregnant after nine months of trying, but instead you will just blurt it out the second he walks in the door and you will both laugh and cry out of pure joy.  Those will be the first of an infinite number of tears you will cry together.

You have no idea that a little over a week from now you’ll learn what “blighted ovum” means and be told your child is gone.  You have no idea that your prayers will be answered when a follow up ultrasound shows a beautiful heartbeat and confirms a misdiagnosis.  You have no idea that at 12 weeks, as you hold an ultrasound picture of your perfect child, that a doctor will tell you over the phone that there is something wrong.  You have no idea what real fear is.

You don’t know that at 18 weeks a team of experts will confirm there is no chance for your daughter to live (you don’t even know you are having a daughter yet!).  You don’t know how passionately you will refuse your “option” of termination.   You do not have any idea the kind of emotional and physical pain you will face over the next months as you carry your child to term knowing they will not live.  You don’t know the un-explainable heartache you will feel when you leave the hospital without that beautiful baby.  You don’t know about your subsequent weeks filled with overwhelming anger, sadness, and grief.

You don’t know how much you will change.

I know this all sounds so scary new Momma, and it is, but there are other things you do not yet know.

You don’t know how many friends and family will step up to help you.  You don’t yet know that you will have an army praying for you.  You don’t know that you will learn how to ask for, and accept, help.  You don’t know you will spend your pregnancy showing your child things you planned to show her over the coming years.  You don’t know you will spend each day reading to her, singing to her, and telling her everything you ever wanted her to know.  You don’t know the bliss of feeling her grow inside of you.

You don’t know how many people will love your daughter.  You don’t know how many lives her life will change.  You have no idea how much you will love her.  Oh, you think you know, but you don’t.  You don’t know the joy you will feel when you hold her the first time.  You don’t know the peace that will fill you when she passes in your arms without having ever felt pain, because you took the pain for her.  You don’t know how much deeper you will fall in love with your husband as he walks this journey with you.  You don’t know how much love you will be shown by so many people in your life.  You don’t know how grateful you will be to be chosen as this child’s mother.

You don’t know there will be days you want to give up but other days you fight like a warrior.  You do know that your life is going to change.  You do know you wanted this more than anything in the world.

I can’t tell you when the grief, hurt, and pain will ease new Momma, but I can tell you that you will not be alone.  I can tell you that you will love you daughter forever.  I can tell you that it will all be worth it to meet her and love her.

Love,

You, a Newly Bereaved Momma

 

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Alison Ferrara is 27 years old and lives with her husband, dog, and two cats in Lititz, PA.  She is a behavior consultant who works with children diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorders.  Alison is mother to Miriam (Mira) who was born on December 18, 2017.  Alison carried Mira to terms after she was diagnosed at 18 weeks with fatal birth defects.  Mira lived for 53 beautiful minutes.  Alison maintains a blog to share Mira’s story and hopefully help end some of the silence surrounding infant loss (babyferraraM.blogspot.com).

 

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One thought on “A Letter To Myself At 4 Weeks”

  1. Brought me to tears, this is just how I feel, and so beautifully written.
    Thank you and well done on your bravery xxz

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