The day before Christmas

I decided to publish my first blog post today. I’ve been meaning to do it for a while now, but could only find the words today.

With it being Christmas tomorrow, I can’t help but miss our daughter again. I think for most people the day before Christmas is an exciting day. Last minute shopping is done and food preparations are underway. For others, it’s just the start of yet another type of nightmare which they experience inside.

Tomorrow would have been her first Christmas. I wonder how she would have looked, whether she would have been able to sit up straight or crawl. I wonder how she would giggle and if she would pull all the decorations off the Christmas tree.

My heart is in tears and as I’m typing my thoughts and I can feel the tears streaming down my face with no end in sight.

I am in pieces, for myself and others. I would have never imagined myself being part of this group of parents. Stillbirth is a nightmare. I think losing a child can change you completely. Not only on the day it happens, but every day thereafter for the rest of your life.

Besides crying for our daughter today, I cry for myself. I cry for my husband. I cry for my parents and parents-in-law who lost a grandchild. I cry for everyone affected by the stillbirth of our daughter. I also cry for every single person who has ever lost a child. Whether I know them or not, my heart cries for them. Some of us have had years or even months to process this, but I also know some people are facing day one or two today. Although we have had months and people around us might think we should be coping better by now or even be over it, it still feels like day one for me.

Yet, I still hope to look back at this post on the 24th of December 2020 and to be thankful that I managed to defeat this day. I hope to look back and know that I am stronger that I am today. I hope to see that I might have made someone else feel less alone today.

It’s difficult, but I know I still have so much to be thankful for.

It’s just for now, for now I want to allow myself to cry. Allow myself to scream. Allow myself to be angry and to not believe that there is a reason or purpose for this happening. For now, I just want to imagine how perfect my life would have been if I had my daughter here with me. For now, I just want grieve and forget about everything I can still be thankful for.

Earlier on the radio, I heard that our minister of health will be visiting different hospitals tomorrow to welcome all the Christmas babies – I just hope that through all this celebration, support will be given to everyone who will be drowned in sorrow as well.

Merry Christmas,

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