Shared by: A Stillbirthday Mother

A part of our Love Letters to Our Bodies

I was pregnant in 2007.  At 23 weeks I made the ultrasound morphology (4D).

Unfortunately, my baby had a problem – my baby had no eyes and likely problems on the brain.  There is no cure for it.

I had three days to decide…

So I made a birth induction.  In the hospital, I didn’t want to touch my belly, afraid to get too attached.  When I came back home, my baby belly was not to see anymore – no stretch marks – it looked like nothing happened.

When we made the decision, I hoped to not see an empty container.  I had lost a great deal of my weight, and it has taken years to resume it.  Also, my breasts became very small, from an M to a XS-S.

I hated to see my skinny body in the mirror.

After time, I started to re-touch my belly.  Now, I have a special balm for my navel, for homeopathic support of my feminine body, and to be in contact with this part of my body in the hopes of welcoming new life.

A part of our Love Letters to My Body collection, held within our Mothering the Mourning section.

Written by: Heather

Dear Heather-Body,

I know we’ve been through some tough times, you and I. No one can prepare you for how hard the process of growing older can be, both your side – the physical- and my side – the mental and emotional. I am so sorry that through all the natural hardship of aging, environmental toxins, and outside psycho-somatic stressors that I also added to your burden by not treating you right. I have consumed alcohol, caffeine, and tons of red meat, stayed up all night, partied, smoked cigarettes, starved you, squeezed you into uncomfortable clothes and shoes…I have even stared at the sun. I have had a concussion, broken bones, and sprained ligaments. I have not taken my vitamins. I have hated you. Through all this, you have supported us. You have protested times of high stress by creating a blood clot, among other things, just to try and tell me how hard this is for you. But, you haven’t given up yet. You rose to the challenge and gave my pregnancy with my daughter at 38 years old. You amazed everyone, including me, with your ability to accommodate what was anticipated to be a nine or more pound baby. You rose to the challenge and labored and delivered that child into the world despite her cord having brought about her death. You kept up your end of the bargain and made milk for her. You gave me aching arms, soft breasts, hips, thighs, and belly as a testament to her. And I hated you for that. I felt guilty. I hatefully resented you because of the reminder, but you were trying to tell me: I am doing this for us – not just us two inside and outside, but three of us including her. She is now a part of you, and you were of her. Her sustenance is in those curves, her cells are in your brain, the muscles and skin of your core bear her mark. Body, we will never forget, you and I. You will carry that memory of her in you forever, and that is a reason for love not hate. I didn’t realize that at the time, but now I appreciate all for which you stood strong. I love you for that. I am PROUD of you for that. I’m taking it easier on you now, as I’m taking it easier on me. I am patient with you, as I am patient with me. I still have a mother’s heart with no baby to nurture, so I am going to nurture you instead. I will honor our process and the time it takes. You will heal and so will I. The world is an unkind and hurtful place, so I will be kind to us. This is our one time together, our one shot. Let’s make the most of it. I love you, always.