The ugly guilt... My body failed her. All she needed was to be carried, warm and safe, in my womb. I didn't need to do anything extraordinary, just what any other expecting mother does all day, every day, nothing special or heroic. I just needed to stay pregnant. But I couldn't do that one, normal, everyday, common thing. I failed, and that failure cost my daughter her life.
Nearly three years out, I don't normally sit here with the ache of guilt streaming down my face. I know that if I could have I would have moved heaven and earth for my child. If I could have just stayed pregnant by willing it to be I absolutely would have. Most days I am at peace with the fact that even though it was my body that failed, I did not do anything wrong. I did the best I could, and that was all I could do. It just is what it is.
But when my little boy asks for another sister and brother, asks about babies and when they arrive, why they grow inside mommies and why they are born later, when he wonders why his baby brother was on time but he was early and his sister was even earlier, why she couldn't grow on earth...well, the conversations can get difficult. And the words "Mommy's body didn't work like it was supposed to work, so Elena was too early, her lungs weren't ready yet" sure bring that guilt to the forefront. And shame. Having to tell my son that he had to stay in the hospital because he was early slapped those feelings of shame, of inadequacy, of guilt right across my face. It was my body's fault he got off to a rocky start. It was my body that failed him, that failed his sister and caused her death. I somehow feel like I owe him an apology, that I robbed him of time in the womb and a full-term birth, that I robbed him of his baby sister. It is one thing to wrestle with these feelings in my head, where logic and reason live beside the emotions, where the blame comes only from myself. It is quite another to stand, naked with vulnerability and simply stated facts, and admit to my child, "Elena died because Mommy's body didn't work right." And to fear that he may blame me too. And to know that it is a simple, unchanging fact. I failed her. I am so sorry, my sweet Elena. And I am sorry, my Sunshine Boy. And I am sorry, my Rainbow Baby. Please know that I would have given anything to make it different. I love you all, precious children of mine.
