Two Sides.

I’ve been gone too long.

There hasn’t been a day that has passed where I haven’t missed writing and the therapeutic value of sharing my feelings in this never-ending journey that is being a loss parent. Mothering Luca has still been ever-present, but in a much different way. And tonight, sitting in the dark with my wife next to me asleep with babe in her arms while feeling like I want to lay my face into the covers and scream, I’ve decided it’s time.

Our sweet rainbow girl joined us at 8:46 am on Tuesday, September 2nd. Though still extremely traumatic, with a NICU stay and 48 hours until I could hold her skin to my skin, her birth was wonderful and full of love and joyful anticipation.

She came into the world with a cry, and I turned to Gina and asked “is that our baby?”. It was such a surreal moment in time. For a second right then, and many times over since Elia was born, I couldn’t help but think of the difference in their births, mostly the silence that was in the air when Luca made his entry into the world. Elia went immediately to meet the nurses that would clean her up and Gina never left her side. Luca went immediately from my womb to machines and cold gloved hands.

I was able to hold and sit beside Elia within a few hours of labor. I didn’t get to hold Luca until the doctors and nurses brought him to me to die.

I am overjoyed with the love I feel for this little rainbow babe. At in that same moment, I am utterly devastated experiencing everything with Elia, that I will never have with Luca.

It eats away at me some days. The postpartum hormones don’t help. Once again, it’s an isolating feeling, but now in a bit of a different way. I finally have something to connect with other mother’s about; I have a living baby. But it certainly doesn’t make it any easier to share with other mothers when I have this secret. I hesitate to witness their response. Will it be empathy, or complete apathy?

There are some amazing women around me. And yet I can hardly get the energy up to surround myself with them. I am so lucky to have this miracle in my arms, and yet the sleep deprivation and hormones, and the ever-changing needs of my babe have rendered me physically and emotionally exhausted.

All I want to do is make her smile, soothe her, nurture her, and be the best mother I can possibly be to her. I want to give her everything. I know I am giving her everything. Every little piece of me.

I just wish I could give all of myself to both of my children.

But I count my blessings and realize how lucky I am indeed, to be the mother of these two unique souls in whatever way that looks from the outside, or the inside.