From Mom: One Month Out

It's been a month since our Reese passed away. We’ve spent the last month as many do when they’ve lost a child- escaping the pain, embracing our sorrow, and learning to live our new normal. I was supposed to be 28 weeks pregnant this week. We were supposed to have had our first baby shower already, with another on the way. I think about what fruit Reese would have been the size of this week. I constantly look at bump pictures I had Ross take of me every week (from week four to 23), wondering how big I would have been now. Instead, I just look down and think about how I need to lose weight but don’t want to—I don’t want to lose any part of me that is Reese’s doing. 

We have both slowly resumed work—we are fortunate we have such understanding employers. We’ve discussed measures that will need to be taken for when we start trying to get pregnant again. We also had our first support group meeting this week. It’s hard knowing that there are others out there that share this unbelievable pain with us but comforting at the same time. But mostly we’ve just been trying to move forward; I don’t want to say move on because that implies that we are trying to forget, and I never want to forget anything. 

 

I’ve felt more anger and anguish over the last month than I have ever felt in my life. I’ve hidden more baby posts on social media than I care to admit, turned down different aisles in stores so I can avoid pregnant women or babies, and felt so much jealously it’s embarrassing. I’ve yelled, I’ve sobbed (most likely ruining my pillowcases in the process), and I’ve thrown things. I’ve spent hours researching what happened, and I’ve placed the blame on myself, then others, knowing full well there is no one to blame. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night thinking I’m still pregnant and then fallen back asleep only to awake again, this time smiling because Reese was in my dream, reminding me that I am his mother, always and forever.

 

Knowing that Reese had such an impact on so many people in his short time has made this all a bit easier. The amount of money donated for memorial bricks and a locker at Paulson Stadium is in the thousands. Plus, the money donated to Ross and I just because people care…I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully show my gratitude. Countless meal deliveries and gift cards—I’m reminded every time I order a meal that someone loved Reese. You spend your whole life wondering what others think of you, and then a tragedy like this happens and people come out of nowhere, to let you know you’re loved. I have no doubt that the three of us as a family are surrounded by more love than we ever thought possible. 

 

One of the biggest things I have taken from this is how lucky Reese is and our future children will be to have a man like Ross as their father. Bad dad jokes aside, he has been such a source of strength for me, while also showing his pain and dealing with his grief alongside me. I always knew him to be a caring and considerate man, but I’ve gotten to share those feelings with the world the last month. 

 

Eventually, we will stop posting about Reese regularly. Ross will resume his typical rants about sports, and I’ll go back to sharing articles about pop culture. Hopefully, we will both share happy news about a new addition, and receive congratulations sentiments, much like we did in December when we announced we were expecting Bub. One day, we might forget to sing happy birthday at 6:37 pm as we have done every day since February 12th, and we might not remember to say goodbye to his urn that sits on our bedroom shelf as we leave the room. But that doesn’t mean the pain will be gone or that we have gotten over his death—far from it. What it does mean is that we will be doing exactly what Reese would have wanted for us—we will be living our lives to whatever the fullest is at that moment, striving to make him proud with every move we make. 

 

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Thanks for letting me ramble on about my beautiful son. Ross has something he has prepared to say in the event anyone asks us if we have children, and I think it’s perfect to end this little essay with. 

 

“Yes! We have a son. His name is Reese, and he’s the light of our lives and he keeps us going every single day. He was beautiful and perfect. He came to us short of 24 weeks and unfortunately his time with us was way too short and we lost him after 5 days. We love him and we hope he will be a big brother one day soon – thank you so much for asking.”

 

We love you Reese, our Bub. We miss you. We will see you again.