I don’t know what to say. I’m better at writing than speaking, so I’ll just try it this way. I know you’re about to go through a whole roller coaster of emotions in the next few days, months, even years. I know you’ve been trying to stay strong for a while now, but the day is finally here. You’re about to meet your baby girl, and you just don’t know how long she’ll be with us. Your story (and hers) is not mine to tell on this platform, so I’ll just leave it at that, but I want you to know I wish I had the words to give you some sort of comfort.
I don’t know how to help you through this. I want to be able to do something, to make it better, but it’s so hard to know what you need. I hope you know there are so many people surrounding you who just want to be there for you, whatever that means. Don’t be afraid to ask. I promise you it will be an absolute relief for them to feel useful in some way, because in these situations it feels as if you’re completely helpless.
I know your pain, at least in some small capacity, because I have my own loss that I have dealt with, and I still to this day will feel that all too familiar wound reopened when I think about how old he/she should be right now, or what our life would look like with them in our family. But I don’t know your pain exactly. It’s not even fair to say that I do. You’ll always have questions, and you’ll never quite be able to pinpoint the answers. And you’ll always have a spot in your heart that’s a little tender, no matter what. It won’t break you, but you might feel like it has.
I want you to know that my heart physically hurts for you. It really, truly does. I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone, but I certainly wouldn’t wish it on a good, loving person like you. I want you to know it’s ok to feel whatever emotion you’re feeling. It’s ok to be angry, happy, sad, and resentful. And it’s ok to feel that all within the span of five minutes. Just let yourself feel all of it. Because holding it all in will change you. It will make you harder, more cold, and that’s the worst thing that could come of all this.
I wish I could say that you’re the first of my friends to endure this, but you’re not. And you’ll find out that you will have friends that unfortunately must join you in this most undesirable of clubs. The only thing we can do is band together to know that we’ve made it through, we’ve survived, and we’re stronger because of it. That’s the power of mothers. When we go through hell together, we come out on the other side ready for anything else life can throw at us. All other tribulations will seem trivial in comparison to this.
Your little one is lucky to have you as her mama. You are a good, strong mother, and nothing you have ever done would mean that this is your fault. Don’t even let that thought creep in for a second. I’ll be praying for a miracle, and I’ll be by your side as much as you’ll let me. You’re going to get through this. It won’t feel like it at times, but you will. And I’ll try to figure out what to say. Perhaps, it might be enough just to tell you that I love you. Just let me know. I’ll be here.