24 weeks.

That’s how old you would be this week.

The weekly pregnancy update email that I never unsubscribed from (maybe I should, but in some twisted way I sort of like reading them and bawling afterwards) said that some premature babies as young as 24 weeks are able to survive. The doctors said that you appeared to be totally healthy and normal, only the tiniest bit small (and I wasn’t totally sure of your conception date anyways). If only I had been able to carry you a few weeks longer…  I shouldn’t let my mind keep wandering back to all the “what ifs.” I have spent way too much time there already. But I just can’t help it. What if? What if I had gone in to the emergency room sooner? What if I had gained more weight during the first trimester?  What if I had skipped the hiking trip the week before, or drank more water, or not forgotten to take my prenatal vitamins occaisionally? What if I had an early ultrasound? Would they have been able to see anything? What if I was 24 weeks pregnant right now, and thinking about what I was going to wear to the big Thanksgiving dinner that would fit my growing belly? What if the reason I was up in the wee hours of the morning today was because I had to pee, or had heartburn, or because you were wide awake and kicking me, instead of because I was heartbroken?

Some days I do really well. Most days now, actually. But you are still never far from my thoughts. And every once in a while, I am still totally consumed with sadness that you are gone.

I envy women who are able to make peace about their loss and write inspirational, rather than just depressing words on their blogs… I’m sorry, but I’m just not there yet.

Here is the closest thing I have to inspirational right now:

Some of you might remember I did a photo project after Munchkin was born called “52 weeks of someone you love” where I took a picture of him every week for the first year of his life. I intended to do the same for our daughter, but will never have the chance. So instead I am doing a project called “52 weeks for someone you love.” Each week I am taking one picture of something beautiful; something that makes me think of Hope or something that I wanted to share with her hear on earth but never had the chance to. These are a few of the most recent, the rest are here: http://jodeanbrannanphotography.smugmug.com/The-World-Through-My-Eyes/Family-2010/For-Hope/13861391_6NLbE#1088551821_7XoDo 

I want to write a little something to go along with each of them, so you may be seeing some of them again. I am learning that making things is how I deal with my grief. Keeping my hands busy with some project or another, whether is photography, sketching, knitting, painting, writing… is really helping me get through this.


2 thoughts on “24 weeks.

  1. I can’t imagine what your dealing with, how difficult it would be. I am sorry. Let yourself grieve and take the time you need.

    Our culture is way to speed oriented. That’s not how healing works.

    Prayers that this holiday season you can find strength in God.

  2. I, too, continued to read the pregnancy updates after I had to say goodbye. I’m glad that you are taking the time to heal. I pray that taking photographs each day will help you heal little by little. Take your time.

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