Once upon a time..

Once upon a time I had a daughter.  Even on ultrasound, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  Her face was already just so cute and precious.  The first time I saw her little thigh and knee-cap and shin and calf so perfectly formed, I just adored every little piece of her.  I couldn't wait to photograph that face myself and bend those little legs into my arms.  All I ever wanted in life was a daughter, and I was about to get one. She was my dream come true.

You all know the story.  The dream come true that never came true.  Losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to anyone.  When you lose your only child, you lose your parenthood too.  For me, it was my entire identity completely flushed down the drain in one foul swoop.  You know the story.  You don't have to read about it again, even though I still live with it every day.


Once upon a now... I have a daughter.  And oh my goodness gracious, she is my dream come true.  She lives up to her name and more.  You all know the story! I photograph her face every day and I carry her around in my arms.  It is wonderful to carry a baby in your actual arms, and not just your heart.


Once upon a time in between, I had another daughter.  I only got to physically be connected to her for less than two months. I never even got official medical confirmation that she was a daughter... but I don't need that.  She was my daughter too.  I saw her body on the screen and I saw her little heart beating.  Hope.  Motherhood.  My baby.

On April 5, 2010, I turned 30 years old.  It was a beautiful day spent in the mountains with my husband after having a homemade pancake breakfast with my best friend and her little girl.  I was pregnant with that little daughter in between.  We stopped at our favorite overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway and took a picture.  I burned my leg on the side of the motorcycle.  I was pregnant and happy.  Still grieving, but filled with hope and promise of another little dream come true.

The next day, I had an ultrasound and heard the words no one should ever have to hear "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't see a heartbeat."  That sentence again.  It was a different ultrasound technician than the first time.  A different room.  A different machine.  A different doctor.  The same heartbreak.  The same devastation.  The same loss of hope.  The same loss of motherhood.

I don't have an uplifting end to this.  Even in my worst of days and rawest and most painful blog entries, I tried to end on some kind of positive note or hope for better times.  But I don't have one here (unless you want me to talk about Glory again).  My husband and I suffered tremendous losses, and nothing can fill them up or make it better.  What happened to us is not ok and never will be.  There are only two things we wouldn't trade to have those babies back.

I'm sorry we didn't get to know you better my 2nd little love.  I'm sorry if you feel like you aren't mentioned or honored as much as your big sister.  But you will always hold a special place in Mommy's heart, just for you.  You were just as wanted and wished for as the others.  Kisses to the sky for you my little cherry.  Sleep tight and wait for me.  You are still my baby.