Baby Chip was supposed to be born March 3rd 2020. Today is her due date.
She would have been born a Pisces. A perfect mix of selfless, kind, positive and gentle, much like her dad. She would have imaginative, sensitive and intuitive, just like her mumma too. She would have been a sweet little baby, with bright eyes and a beautiful soul.
Today, we added things to our angel’s memory/ keepsake box. Items we wish we could share with her earth side.
Today, we purchased plants to watch grow and look after, the same way we would have after bringing home our daughter.
Today, we contemplate what life would have looked like for us. How the face of grief and heartache would have never been a vision in our minds.
Today, we should have heard her cries but instead all we hear are our own. No happiness, no smiles, no blissful moments, no earth side baby to hold and love.
We like to believe she’s a star, showing us every night she’s still here, twinkling down at us. Maybe she’s up there, watching us and waiting for the day we get to join her.
Wherever it is, we hope that it’s beautiful and that her soul is at peace.
We find comfort in knowing she never felt the pain or heartache of this cruel world. I know I would take all of the pain in the world to ensure that.
I wish we could have met her, I wish she had more time on this earth than the 8 weeks she got. I wish we had more time to know her, hold her and be blessed by her existence. I wish she could have stayed.
We do live our life differently since loosing her. Our bad days look very different, and sometimes, the bed is the only place we can find the time to let it all out. Sometimes we cry, and sometimes we smile. We are forever grateful to be parents to our beautiful baby, but we are forever tormented by the fact we never got to keep her.
There is no lessons from this. There is no big “aha” moments, or reasons why.
We lost our baby. We now live without the one person we had planned our future around.
The pain doesn’t get any easier. It never dulls it’s strength or leaves but we have found ways to honour her legacy and life; the parts we were able to experience with her and the parts we never will. We hope we are doing enough. We hope she sees and feels our love, wherever she may be.
We’ll see you in the skies, Baby Chip. 🐝👼🏼
-Candace
Wife, Mother of Baby Chip, still a hopeful universe believer.
I walked the pregnant women, newborn filled aisles with a heavy heart and a brisk walk. I tried not to look too hard, but each item was a memory scratching to come out in the form of tears. So many tears.
Somehow, I kept it together.
I. kept. it. together.
Until I made it into the safe haven of my car where I silently cried my eyes out.
I cried because it was supposed to be me happily walking those aisles, 7 & 1/2 months pregnant, blissfully unaware of this kind of pain. It was supposed to be a time where we got last minute newborn clothes and did changes to the nursery because of my raging hormones.
I sit inside my ‘nursery’ now. I had to convert it into my office, because the pain of walking past a half-closed door full of nursery furniture broke my heart.
It is never just the initial pain of losing your child that you feel for the rest of your life. It’s the empty car seats, silent nights, closed doors to rooms. Pain comes in the form of a closet full of baby clothes… I tend to find myself being heartbroken, asking, ‘What do I do with all these clothes…’
Pain comes in the mothers who boast about their children (and so they should), it’s in the explanation you haven’t quite mastered yet, but speak so often. It’s the empty hole in your heart you don’t know how to fill. It’s in the baby aisles.
Pain will forever come in the moments we never get to experience. The first steps or first day at school. We never get to hear how they laugh or what their favourite color is. We will never hear them call us ‘mum’ or ‘dad’… We miss out on every moment of their existence, apart from the few short weeks we got.
I’m here to warn you; the pain never stops. It never gets easier. Sometimes, it gets even harder. However, you will find ways to make daily life easier to manage. You may even find yourself smiling and laughing, because life for everyone around you still goes on.
Today, I purchased newborn clothes, for our baby we don’t get to meet in this lifetime. Her birthday/ due date is March 3rd, and we will treat it as such. There will be more tears on that day. There will be pain and heartbreak on these days for the rest of ours too. It’s the cursed blessing we receive when we become parents to an angel baby.
But today, I can say I accomplished something I wasn’t necessarily ready for but had enough courage to do anyway. At least, today, I braved the baby aisle.
-Candace
Wife, Mother of Baby Chip, still a hopeful universe believer.
its almost a pain in our chest that those aren’t the ones,
of our light that’s left.
–
The holidays are crazy enough,
without all of the grief.
Don’t you see how hard it is just to attend these events,
no matter how brief?
–
We accept all prayers and wishes,
for we know little stars need kisses too,
up there in the universe,
from where our babies all visit.
–
We try to remember them,
the best way we can,
and show our love and loss,
with our open, aching hands.
–
That’s where our baby should reside,
who is not with us any longer.
Why does the hole in our heart,
everyday, grow stronger?
–
Although you may think,
you shouldn’t need to explain,
know that so many,
already know your pain.
–
Your voice and your story,
make sense to so many.
Please don’t hide your baby,
they are apart of your family.
–
Some will forget,
or not mention them at all.
Those aren’t your people,
true friends will let you talk.
–
We know it’s hard to receive,
so many cards this season,
that don’t include your baby’s name,
what a shame, with no rhyme or reason.
–
What about our baby,
the one we didn’t get to meet?
Please show us some compassion,
while we try to navigate our grief.
–
They are as important,
as your living children.
Ask about them sometime,
our baby that we love times a billion.
–
May this season bring support,
perhaps from where it was lacking.
May this poem bring you peace,
If you unfortunately know this feeling.
–
If this holiday season is tough,
remember that it is enough,
to simply show love,
and know your baby feels it from above.
–
⁃Candace
Wife, Mother of Baby Chip, still a hopeful universe believer.
This poem was written in 2 hours during Christmas Day, while I sat and thought of how to express my feelings during such a tough time of the year. For those who know this pain, I hope this brings some comfort. You aren’t alone. Merry Christmas.
There are things in this world that nobody could ever
prepare you for. The loss of our baby we were never able to hold, tops my list.
Michael and I had been so excited for this blessing we
started to call ‘Baby Chip’ back in June. It had happened so fast, it
was almost shocking. Grateful, blessed, happy. We started the process of being
parents, of holding my hair while I was sick, dealing with cravings and moods,
of a growing tummy and growing nursery. Dreams, hopes, plans; all gone in the
blink of an eye.
Our worst day came in the form of a normal ultrasound scan.
All looking well, like the last one. Measuring just like she should. We knew we
would see a little jellybean and hear a little heartbeat that day and were
beyond excited.
They asked, ‘Have you had any spotting or bleeding?’. I was
confused why they were asking. My answer was no, everything had been just like
it should. We waited to see her heartbeat on the screen. A heartbeat we would
never see.
4 words. ‘There is no heartbeat’.
The floor could have swallowed me whole in that moment. There are no other words to describe the pain
inside of your chest finding out the life growing inside of you has stopped
growing. You are never prepared for this kind of pain and loss.
They stumbled around the M- word, as I’ve so nicely named it. Miscarriage. That’s the M-word. It was incredibly tough to stand up and walk out of the hospital with no happiness left inside of me. It was gone, and it took my baby with it.
It was a weird feeling; still feeling pregnant, still needing to pee every hour and be sick, but now, with no real purpose. My husband stayed with me while I sat and cried, silently for hours that afternoon. We were eating dinner, and at the bottom of our takeout bag was a bag of sweets, my husband finding a small part of happiness in our day. He pulled them out, ‘Oh wow, gummy bears…’ He said as he looked at me sympathetically. The previous hour we had looked up how big our baby was- roughly the size of a gummy bear. So many kicks while we were already down. I started to understand then that reminders were not something I would ever be able to shy away from, and I had to start learning how to deal with them from the very beginning. My husband was very attentive and supportive, being the one who had the mission of calling people we had to let know, so that we wouldn’t be asked the dreaded, ‘how did the scan go?’.
After a full week of tests, scans and waiting around, we were given our options of how to proceed. We were put on the emergency surgery list and waited for our final step to be done. A step we would never be ready for, but my body was. We waited all day Tuesday, 30th July to get nowhere. I opted to go home and not spend the night. Another kick while we were down, more waiting. I had 6 hours to eat and drink before fasting again. I had my surgery 31st July. Now that we are home and healing, we feel we have some calmness to our storm. We feel ready to share.
July 22nd was our heartbreaking day, but so was
the week and a half that followed. Surgery was a tough and painful experience,
something I will share more about soon. I’m sure we will have more dates to
come where it will be hard. March 3rd, the due date we estimated.
February 24th, the date we were originally given for her arrival.
Mother’s Day and Father’s Day (because my husband lost our baby too) for years
to come will be our days of sadness and loss, and hopefully someday, full of
some kind of happiness.
Little Chip was no surprise to us or anyone around us.
Everyone knew how much we wanted to start a family, and after only a month, our
wish had come true. We were overjoyed and shared in our happiness with close
friends and family, something I’m glad we did. Telling people about our loss
was easier after celebrating in our happiness. It felt better knowing Baby Chip
had existed in their lives too.
I have memories and not all bad. I’m sure my husband remembers all the countless times I used, ‘I’m pregnant’, as the excuse, something that I now must come to terms with not saying. I remember the baby clothes we purchased after finding out, the furniture we assembled, the nursery plans we had, the rocking chair I was sure Baby Chip would love as much as I would.
The first while was hard, only ever seeing reminders, ads,
other announcements of people’s success… I hope some day it will be easier to
smile at the idea of babies again.
They gifted us with the images, the only pictures of our baby we have, a baby we will never get to meet; Baby Chip. We started referring to it as a girl for some time, so now that’s what we call her. Baby Chip’s name was a funny, personal joke between some friends, but everyone joined in and it became her nickname. I’m glad we have a name we can use when we speak of her.
Baby Chip existed. She existed for only a small time on this
earth, and only in the confines of my tummy, but Baby Chip was here. She was
here for 7 weeks and 6 days before she made her way onto whatever comes after
this life. I hope it’s somewhere nice. I hope the universe takes care of her as
much as we would’ve liked to.
I will never look at certain foods the same way, especially those damn gummy bears. I can’t look at a hospital the same way, or my nursery room, or the photos and videos we made in preparation for an announcement that was far from this one. I will admire pregnancy announcements, knowing how hard it was mentally and physically to get to that point, a point we didn’t get to ourselves.
We now live in a world, without our Baby Chip in it. I told Michael, ‘She’s the size of a honeybee, perhaps that will be what we remember her by.’ So, bee’s it is, Chip.
I don’t know where to go from here. There is so much I hope
to say and do, but nothing feels right. I wish I had more time with Baby Chip
than I got. I wish that I got to meet her, cuddle her, and I wish I had gotten
to listen to all the dad jokes my husband was whirling together for her. I hope
someday those things still happen. It won’t be with Baby Chip, but maybe with
another baby we get gifted from the universe. I hope that wherever our Baby
Chip is, she rests with people we loved and lost who reside on the other side
too. I hope our honeybee, gummy bear, angel baby, is okay and knows we loved
her with every bit of our hearts.
We decided to share our story, although heartbreaking to tell, so that 1 in 4 didn’t sound so bizarre. To us, that percentage was a shock. How could so many pregnancies end this way and you never hear of it… So here it is, you are hearing about it. It happens. It happens too often for no real reason and there’s nothing we can do to prevent it. If you have an angel baby, you know the feeling all too well. I’m sad we join this statistic. I’m sad this is how we enter parenthood. If you are pregnant or have children of your own, go and hold them tight tonight. Be grateful for experiencing something so many wish to feel and be apart of. If there is only one thing you take from this, please let it be that you are grateful for what you have.
We know that some choose not to share this kind of news and we can understand why. However, for us, this was important. We had hoped to be announcing our baby’s life to the world this month and instead we announce her departure. It feels like a bad dream we won’t wake up from. We don’t believe that ‘everything happens for a reason’, no ‘at least’, ‘moving on’ or ‘the past is the past’. We choose to move forward. We now live with this pain for the rest of our lives, waiting for the day we get to see our angel baby again somewhere on the other side. Last week was full of emotional pain, this week full of physical pain. We now heal from both, for the remainder of our time here on earth.
We hope by sharing, others will know of Baby Chip’s life. Our baby matters, her life is valid. Although we were only given a few short weeks with her, it was the biggest blessing. I would take all the morning sickness in the world to just have her heart beating inside of me again. My husband and I miss her, I’m sure the universe mourns her loss too, but the world wasn’t ready for Baby Chip, even though we were.
To Baby Chip: We’ll hold you in our hearts, until we can
hold you on the other side. Part of our heart now lives on with you wherever
you are. Your wings were ready, but our hearts were not. We miss you; we love
you; we hope you are at peace.
To those reading this: Thank you for giving us time to
grieve the loss of our Baby Chip, for allowing us to share our journey, and for
reading about her beautiful life she was able to live here on earth, inside my
bump.
-Candace, Wife, Mum of an angel, still a hopeful universe believer.
The Pfeffer Family 