I haven't written for quite some time... since the day we decided to try for another baby. For months, all my energy was focused on the future. I dared to hope, to dream of a healthy baby in my arms! If I am honest with myself, it has been really hard work... and it hasn't left much room for other emotions, especially not grief.
But now, as I start to feel the first flutters of our baby move, as our worries for our second baby's safe arrival increase, my thoughts turn to Anya. I yearn for my daughter. I dream of the life she might have lived... the life she should have lived. I wonder if her death might have been prevented... I want so badly to hold her in my arms.
At times, a deep seated part of me feels like if our second baby can be born healthy, somehow Anya will be okay. I try to reason these feelings away, and I feel guilty. I love this new baby, whoever he is. I know he will not replace Anya. I fear that watching him grow will remind me of all Anya never got to have. This seems like an unfair burden for a child, and I feel guilty.
But I won't dwell in this guilt.
Our second baby has been a balm for my heart. I feel a mother's love blooming inside me again. I can see pregnant women and newborns, without crumbling inside. With each ultrasound and flutter, as I listen to the womp-womp-womp of our baby's heart, my love grows. I am delighted that my belly is starting to show! It gives me a new excuse to caress my belly and hug my baby.
Now if only this baby can be born healthy... for his (or her) own sake... so we can spend our lives together.