Tuesday, December 31, 2013

It was a . . .

Back in the summer when we underwent genetic testing and met with a counselor to determine the specific chromosomal abnormalities that caused our miscarriage, I asked the counselor if the tests showed the sex of our lost fetus.  She indicated that information was available, and at our request sent us a copy of the results in a sealed envelope, in case we ever wanted to know that information.  At the time we received it, Hubby didn't want to open it.  I knew I wanted to know one day, but at that point my heart was still in a million broken pieces, so I wasn't sure the timing was right either.  So, we've kept the sealed envelope in a drawer, close at hand.

From time to time I'd think of the envelope, and at one point later in the summer I decided that I'd like to open the envelope around the time our baby was due, December 25th.  We were upstate with family for Christmas Eve & Christmas Day, so that timing wasn't appropriate -- I wanted to unseal the information in private.  I also didn't know how I'd react.  But, over the past couple weeks I made up my mind that I wanted to open it before the year ended.  I know there are so many things I have in my life to be thankful for, and I want to make a conscious effort to focus on those in 2014.  I thought by opening the envelope before the year ended, I could try to bring some closure to the situation, and try not to focus so hard on what we've lost.

* * *

Back in May, even before I miscarried, I had a strong feeling that our baby was a girl.  I can't recall what initially led me to believe I'd soon be carrying a bundle of pink in my arms, but I think it was a random dream.  Then, when we vacationed in the Dominican Republic for our anniversary and received a little parting gift from our hotel of a faceless girl figurine, my feelings became stronger.  When I first saw that little faceless girl, I was convinced it symbolized the baby growing inside of me.  And, after our miscarriage when I came home and saw the little faceless girl in a blue dress and hat, I just knew she represented the baby we'd never meet.

* * *

Well, it turns out I was completely wrong.  The little baby we lost back in June was a boy.  Our lost boy.  I'll never forget him, and always wonder what he could have grown up to be.  But the truth is, I'll never know.


My Little Angel

I never got to hold you,
Or kiss your little head
Or watch you sleeping soundly,
All snuggled in your bed.

I can't count your tiny fingers,
Or you even smaller toes
I won't see your smile,
Or your cute little button nose.

I know you are in heaven,
Where there is no pain or tears.
You'll never get hurt or sick,
In heaven there are no fears

And though I'm sad you're not here right now
For us to hold today
I know we'll hold you in our arms
When we're in heaven with you someday

© April Westlake

Obviously a part of me is still very sad, and I am sure I'll always wish for my angel baby.  But I am also grateful to have found out this information.  I have no idea why, but knowing this little tidbit of information, although it doesn't change a thing really, has brought me a tiny bit of closure.

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