Dear Dot

Dear Dot,

Hello baby.
I only knew you for one week. One week you were in my life, but you have been in my mind and heart for nearly a year now.

You, my little Dot, you showed up when I was in the bathroom at work.
I looked down into my underwear and there you were, about the size of a 50 cent piece. Although you were so small, this was a huge moment for me. I was robbed of breath and clear thinking.

I knew it when I saw you. This was not implantation bleeding and your life beginning; this was your life ending.
Seeing you there meant the end of your life and the end of the hopes, dreams, plans and prayers I had invested in you. It broke me.

Apparently, there was something wrong with my body. That something meant you couldn’t grow within me.
The place that was meant to keep you safe, well, it didn’t. My body didn’t fight for you, it fought against you. I wanted to house you and I think you wanted to be housed within me for nine months. I don’t think you wanted to leave me, but my body couldn’t keep you safe. And, for that, I am so incredibly sorry.

I didn’t know what to do when I saw you. You weren’t meant to be there, a mark in my underwear; that wasn’t how your life was meant to end. I was working in a new place; somewhere I hadn’t yet gotten close enough to trust and confide in many people. There was loneliness within my body and heart, knowing you were no longer there, but I also felt socially alone. Fortunately, there was one person, my saving grace, who helped me take my next steps when the truth was just too unbearable to process.

I sat in my manager’s office and called your dad. “I think I’m having a miscarriage.” As the words left my lips and I desperately hoped I was wrong.
He got there as quickly as he could and as soon as he walked in, I finally allowed myself to feel everything. I broke.

All I could say was “sorry”. I said sorry to him for losing you, but I think I was saying sorry for everything I thought I couldn’t carry anymore.
I was saying sorry for losing you; sorry that my body wasn’t good enough or strong enough; sorry that I couldn’t protect our baby.
Sorry for the last baby I let go of.
Sorry for all the mistakes I had made.
Sorry to all of the people I had hurt so that I could heal.
Sorry to all the people I had abandoned so that I could find myself.
Sorry that I wasn’t good enough then.
Sorry that I wasn’t good enough now.
Sorry that I had let him down, me down, you down, Alexis down.

You, little Dot, had given us both hope and my body had taken it away from both of us. We had both been through so much and maybe I put too much pressure on you, but I wanted you to be the hope we hadn’t had for such a long time.
Was it too much for you? Was it too much pressure to put on such a little life?
Little Dot, I still yearn for your life. I know where you are though; you are with your sibling in heaven. You have company up there. You are not alone. You paved the way for your brother to come into the world, and even though I miss you and I still so desperately want to meet you, I am so grateful that your brother is next to me right now. And as confusing as it feels, I’m so glad your sibling has you in heaven.

I want all four of you here. I want Alexis; Solomon; you, little Dot; and my baby who I will never be able to give a name to. Four pregnancies, two beautiful lives, and two angel babes. My Mother’s heart will always long for all of you.

Sometimes I don’t know how to balance my feelings. How can I be so grateful that Solomon is in my life, but also miss you so much? How do I miss you so dearly, knowing that if you were here, he wouldn’t be? How do I find peace with that? Two feeling in one heart.
No matter how confused my feelings are, I won’t stay silent about you. I won’t keep you a secret, your life means more to me than that.

Did you know, little Dot, that 1 in 4 women miscarry?
1 in 4.
1 in 4 and for some reason I didn’t think I would ever be the 1.
Off the top of my head, I can think of 10 other strong and beautiful women whose babies are with you in heaven.
I think we don’t talk about it enough because it’s too hard for mummas to come to terms with. The job were designed to do, we weren’t able to.
For me, it was the shame.
The shame of my body failing to do what it was made to do.
The shame that I felt so broken after only knowing about you for a week. I felt like it wasn’t long enough. I felt like I didn’t have the right to be so sad, to grieve so strongly.
In my mind, I felt like I was overreacting.
In my heart, I was breaking.
My heart would crack a little more every time I looked down and saw more blood and more clots exit my body. More tears would pierce my lips.
I just wanted the outpouring of blood and tears to cease.
For all of my heartbreak, though, you gave so much to me.

Dot, I want to thank you for giving me hope. For allowing me to hope. You helped me realise that, as humans, hope is our natural response, our natural reflex, our intuitive way of thinking. I never walk through life expecting the worst. Yes, the worst happens, but I think we have a tendency to subconsciously lean toward hope. Such is the grace of God.

Losing you felt so different to when I lost your sibling.
I long for both of you, but in such different ways.
I grieved for both of you, but for different reasons.
It is a very different form of grief when the decision is made for you compared to when you make the decision. The love I had for you; your sibling had deserved too. So, when I lost you, I wasn’t just overcome with sadness, but also guilt. Your sibling deserved the same outpouring of love that I had for you. It deserved my prayers, just like you, Alexis and Solomon.

Baby Dot, you also taught me that I was capable of great love. I didn’t feel like I could ever love another the way I love Alexis. You showed me I could. You taught me that my heart was still a fighter and a lover of all of my babies. Thank you.

I didn’t get to know you. But I know the hopes I had for you and they were beautiful.
I look forward to the day that I get to meet you in heaven and hold both of you in my arms. No, we don’t get to spend this life together but we have eternity on our side.
I love you, my Dot. And I love your brother or sister who is up there with you.
And I love your sister and brother who are down here with me.
You all have your own space in my heart, and even though I couldn’t keep you all safe in my body, you are all kept and all safe within my heart.


Xx