Every year, 26,000 babies are stillborn in America. In 2003, one of them was my son.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

For Now, Farewell

I've put off writing this post for weeks, unsure of what to say. Because I'm not saying "goodbye" as I am saying, I'm moving on from here, but into what, I don't know.

We moved to the UK nearly seven months ago and are still adjusting, all of us. That takes a lot out of a person and I am no exception. We'll be moving into another home in July, though I don't know where, or when, exactly. My children need me in a way they haven't before: they need more reassurance, more hugs and kisses, more time. I am trying to decide what to be when I grow up: I need a job for my own sense of self, my sanity, not to mention that a paycheck would be, well, helpful.

So that is where I am: figuring it out, hoping, unsure. I've so valued this safe space where I could come to talk about Ben, for as we who journey in this land of broken hearts know too well, those safe spaces are few and far between. I hope I've helped, for that was my intention in writing here: to help those who come after me, to reassure them that they will survive this, even though it doesn't feel possible. Even though it will take years to believe.

I'm not leaving the stillbirth community, though I don't yet know how my future participation in it will shape up. I'll let you know. In the meantime, please, if you want to keep in touch, send me an email (it's up there in the right hand corner) and I'll be there. I'm also on Facebook and Twitter, but again, email me and I'll tell you how to find me.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Thank you for letting me remember my son, and allowing me to get to know your babies too.