Today marks Luca's official due date.
I knew very well that even though I had bounced back and started living life again that this would be a difficult time for me. I think for any woman who has lost an unborn child well into pregnancy that magic date is imprinted permanently into your memory. You continue the countdown in your head, but it is not one of excitement and anticipation. It's a ticking clock of loss. October 25th, 2013. Welcome to the day that was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. (Even though it was a rough measurement...)
I am thankful that I did not know until recently I would be mourning alone on this day.
Luca's father decided to part ways with me. I digress from going into detail as that is not the purpose of this blog. I never pictured myself spending this day in a half empty apartment, thinking of how I'm going to get everything out in the next three days. But here I am. And things are what they are.
My doctor tells me that men leaving after a miscarriage isn't uncommon. He sees it all too often. While part of me wants to search for comfort in those words, it leaves me feeling pretty hollow.
I would like to point out a few things that people have said to me that I found truly infuriating and wildly inappropriate:
"Well, I guess it was for the best then..."
"You would have been stuck all alone, a single mother..."
"It's really better then...that, you know...."
"Everything happens for a reason..."
I would like to say that for any decent, expecting, or mourning mother, there is not a single good reason between heaven and earth that would make the loss of a child a blessing in disguise. There is literally nothing in this world that could happen that would make me think that the miscarriage was for the best.
I would have found a way. I would have found a million ways, for her.
I bought her flowers today. It felt strange bringing fresh flowers into the apartment, knowing I need to break down everything and be gone in the next few days. But today is important.
I put them next to her ashes and the box that holds her pictures, blanket and bonnet. I keep every sympathy card we received in that box, as well as my late grandfather's handkerchief.
While this point in time is difficult for me, I am happy to say that I have been moving on, towards things that bring me happiness. I am back at my old job, surrounded by people that I have known well for years and truly love. I am incredibly thankful for all of the ongoing support and understanding I have received from these people, as well as my coworkers from my last job.
While that gig did not work out for me in any sense, I was able to come out of it with a new appreciation and understanding about what matters to me in life, and quite a few good, solid friends.
I received one negative comment about this blog after I started it. And this one comment was the reason I haven't posted in a long time.
I was told that this blog was "Just another way for you to victimize yourself."
For that one opinion, I stopped writing. The person who said that was Luca's father, himself.
From this point on, I will continue writing. Because regardless of that one opinion, my writing resulted in a lot of good. I have had people I only know as acquaintances send me messages, having been through a similar loss. And one that hadn't experienced a loss of that nature but was inspired by my writing to make a positive change in their life.
The thought that through my writing, Luca's short life could have a positive impact on others or give them comfort gives me an incredible sense of peace.
So tomorrow I will begin packing up the last of my belongings, putting a physical end to this chapter of my life. While it is difficult to let go, I know there is nothing left to hold on to.
But tonight, I mourn her. Because of all the hopes I had, because she was everything I had ever dreamed of. And even though she passed before she was ever able to experience this world, her story has touched people close to me. Without even being born, she has made a difference in the lives of others. I am incredibly proud of my daughter. Just like any other mother would be.
