|Me holding 2-day-old Remy Rose|
What a precious gift. With all that I went through this summer with the pregnancy and miscarriage, holding dear Remy did more to uplift my spirits than I could of imagined. The incredible vulnerability of a new baby, the innocence, the sense of a new beginning of her life and a new chapter for her family, and to hold all of that in my arms--it was completely restorative. I didn't even see her open her eyes in all of that 4-hour visit. She and I were in complete peace. As soon as I got home, I texted Liz a thank you and a "I'll be back next Friday as long as you'll have me." If they lived closer, I would be there every day. Today was my second visit and I was a complete baby-hog again. Unapologetically.
I think Josh was a little nervous about how I'd react being around Remy, that it would bring on a new wave of despair for the baby I lost--the one that would have been just 4 months younger than dear Remy. But it didn't. It was a complete renewal of hope. While just a month ago I was wondering how any woman who had suffered a miscarriage could "try" to get pregnant again, or even hope for a pregnancy, knowing the risk and pain they had already suffered, holding Remy reminded me of a simple fact: babies are worth it. Just as they are worth the 9 1/2 months of carrying that extra weight, the aches and illness and inability to take decongestants, the agonizing hours of labor and delivery--babies are worth it. As saddening as the loss of hope is with a miscarriage, the chance that you can still have a baby overrides the risk of another loss. Because just look at that newborn. So tiny, helpless and precious, just wanting to be held close and protected. Making you forget yourself in your providing for them.
I didn't know if or when I'd be ready to say this, but I have hope again. It's a hope without expectation of fulfillment, but hope nonetheless.