Thanksgiving

When I first lost Kara, one of my best friends gave me a necklace from Tiffany's. It was a modern art rendition of the Madonna & Child with Kara's name engraved on the back. It's a beautiful piece that has come to signify that my daughter is with God now. I wear it to keep her name close to my heart.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. My family joined us at our home and everyone brought a dish. Conversation was easy and the food was good. When everyone left, I went upstairs to change into sweats to relax. I removed the pendant and thought, "This is how I spent the holiday with my baby." It broke my heart. Everyone on my husband's side of the family had a baby this year - all around the time of Kara's death. My best friend mentioned above, is due in 3 weeks. (I haven't seen her since August.) Why does everyone I know get to have live, healthy babies? Every one of them has their smiling infants this holiday season, except me. My poor baby lies in her cold grave this holiday season. I want to hold her warm body and kiss her face. I want to change diapers and watch her crawl all over Grandma and Grandpa. I had a good cry over that last night. I'm crying again as I write this.

Each night in my prayers, I am thankful for my husband & his health, my family, and for the privilege of having carried Kara for 9 months. She was the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am so lucky to have been her mommy. But I'm angry and sad, too. Angry & sad that she died; angry and sad for everything we are missing out on together. This world is unfair and fucked up. It's hard to be thankful when your baby is dead, but I try to be thankful for the 9 months that I carried her and the wonderful experiences she gave me in return.