Sunday, February 27, 2005

mourning doesn't end at sunrise

Viviana has been often in my thoughts lately. I'm not sure why, other than that Jacqui's been growing and changing so quickly lately that I can't help wondering what Vivi would've been like now, at two and a half years old. Lately in dreams I look for her. I'm always taken by surprise when she's dead. I wake up crying, heartbroken, feeling like I'm suffocating.

My friends and family know her story already; in case a stranger stops in here, or in case those who know miss her a little and would like to see, her photos are still online, and so is the journal. I'll warn you that the photos and story are upsetting; don't click on my account.

My pregnancy with her was actually my fourth. I had three miscarriages before I kept Viviana (almost) to term ... Jacqui was my fifth pregnancy. Miscarriages are hard. Holding your baby daughter and then LOSING HER -- that's harder. I'm not saying there aren't people out there who have it worse, I'm just saying for me, this was the hardest thing I've ever done. I want to type "survived" right there, not "done". But given the dreams, the resurgence of sadness, I don't think I'm quite through it yet.

And for those people who can't understand, the ones who continue to ask when we're going to "give Jacqui a brother or sister" ... this is for you:

It took six years and five pregnancies for Jacqui to get here. I DON'T HAVE ANOTHER SIX YEARS TO PUT INTO IT. I haven't got the strength to do it again.

So stop asking.