It occurred to me yesterday that I had come very close to starting a baby book for the little person that was growing inside me. I got two for my first baby so I had a spare book. I thought it would be nice to start writing in it early to record those "early thoughts" and excitement of the beginning of a pregnancy. I had the ultrasound pictures of the blob that I was given when the blob was 8 weeks and 6 days old. I would have put those in too.
I never got around to it...and now I'm so glad. Because what the hell do you do with a partially filled out baby book belonging to a baby who died? It's not like I could throw it out, and I certainly couldn't use it for another baby. So would it just sit there forever on my bookshelf and remind me of what I lost?
When my son woke up from his nap yesterday afternoon, I went into his room and scooped him into my arms, and held him really, really tightly, and I cried.
And then last night, I got out his baby book and I added the things that I had been "meaning to get to." I added some pictures we took in the hospital after his birth, and I taped our medical bracelets in, and I added pictures from his first birthday and wrote about the cake I made for him that looked like his favorite crab rattle.
And I know it won't keep him safe, but I feel better knowing that more of his life is recorded.
Then there's the second baby book that I never did write in... It's still sitting on the top shelf of the bookcase in the spare bedroom, empty. I hope, I hope, I hope I get to write in it someday.
Mengatasi Aborsi Aman
1 year ago