It is crazy to think that in only 13 (or less) weeks, we will welcome newborn Phoenix. Only 11 months after Sloan left this earth, his sister will arrive. In so many ways I’m incredibly ready to smell that scent, to touch that brand new, flaky baby skin, to feel another of my newborn babies nestled in my arms. In other ways, I am fearful. Fearful of how soon after his death I’ll need to welcome another delicate life into this world. How triggering it might be, how overwhelming. Pregnancy after loss is such a balancing act. It’s bittersweet, full of both joy and trepidation.
I remember being so scared during my pregnancy with Sloan, as he followed two miscarriages. I was constantly worried, nervous over any little thing that felt or seemed unusual. But once he arrived, it went away. He was there, he was safe, he’d made it out of my womb and into our arms. This pregnancy after loss is not worrisome in those same ways. I do not fear the “during”. The gestation isn’t the scary part at all, it’s the after. It’s knowing that even after she’s arrived, we will still constantly be fearful of her fragility because of what happened to her brother. Phoenix is already so loved, I have not, and will not, ever doubt my connection with her. She is pieces of him, and that’s what I’ll do my best to cling to in the difficult moments.