You Don’t Know What It’s Like To Be Like Me

A year ago today, my husband and I were reveling in the fact that we knew I was pregnant. We hadn’t announced it to anyone except immediate family and we were overjoyed. I bought Foo Fighters tickets for Stefan’s Christmas gift, and it was a July 4th all day event. And I was miserable. It was hot, I was constantly hungry, and I was so uncomfortable. We had a great day but easily spent over $100 on crappy food. The concert was incredible though, and it just added to our overall euphoria. I remember talking to Stefan about we would tell our child about this concert one day. 

This year, I can’t remember how to feel happy like that. I feel joy, to some degree. But that overcome with happiness euphoria is gone. And I don’t know if I’ll ever feel it again. 

Analiese is missing from my life. From every moment. She should be almost 5 months old. The 11th is her 5 month birthday. And in those five months I’ve cried and smiled and laughed and been angry. And over it all, I feel empty. Like there is a part of me forever gone and a place that will never thaw and be filled. 

You’ll never hear me say that my pain is worse than others. I’ve never lost a sibling, a spouse, or even a friend. I’ve never had a miscarriage. But I’ve lost my child. And while I won’t say it is worse, I will say it is different. And unless you have held your minutes old baby while they die, you don’t know what it’s like to be like me. 

Have you ever had something horrible happen to you? The kind of horrible that it would be a relief to feel like it never happened? That’s this. But I refuse to allow myself to fall into the lie that makes me feel like it never happened. Because that means my daughter never lived. And that is my worst nightmare. My daughter is Analiese Claire Murphy and she lived for 85 beautiful minutes. And even though thinking about her shatters my heart over and over, I will continue to do so. Because she deserves it. 

I miss her so much. Every second of every day.