Last night at our support group, someone mentioned a family picture they have with the babies that they lost. I was thinking to myself that I wish we had a family picture that we could put up, but we don’t. We have lots of family pictures, thanks to NILMDTS, but the pain in our faces is so clear that I can barely stand to look at them. I’ve seen other families’ pictures where the parents have managed to look happy, and I don’t know how they did it. Most of the pictures of all three of us were taken right after her breathing tube was removed. There was no way for us to look anything but devastated because we knew it was the beginning of the end.
I realized this morning that my feelings about my c-section scar have changed over the past several weeks. It used to be a reminder of my pregnancy that ended too soon and a baby whose life ended too soon. It was just a crooked, ugly knife wound. I don’t see it that way now. I don’t know what changed, but now it feels like a reminder of the best thing that’s ever happened to me, which is Jillian. Her death is obviously the worst thing that has ever happened to me, but I know how lucky we were to have her, even though her life was too short.