When I was pregnant with Mabel, we learned she had Down Syndrome at 13 weeks. From that point forward, Chris and I tried to be positive. We started making connections, reading books, attending conferences . There was certainly adjustment to be had, but we were accepting. Not long after the news, I was connected with another woman a few weeks behind me with the same Down Syndrome diagnosis. We corresponded a bit through email but we were in different places– I was moving forward with the diagnosis; she was praying for a miracle. We were cordial, but did not stay in touch.
I received an email from her hoping to reconnect, now that we both had babies with Down Syndrome. It was a very sweet email, complete with photos, from a mom who clearly loves her child. It was well intentioned and in another world would have been welcome.
But it in this world, the one where my baby died, it hurt. It felt like a kick in the face. Just when I thought I was moving forward in my grief, learning how to live with the loss of my baby, I am reminded how cruel and unfair the world can be.
I am angry. So. Very. Angry.
I am not angry at this woman- I feel relieved that she had a living baby and that child is clearly loved to pieces. I am angry that mine never had the chance. I am angry that I said yes, accepted a difficult diagnosis and my baby still died. I am angry that I wanted to be a parent, that my pregnancy was planned and that I was ready, but my baby still died. I could go on about my anger- about how people seem to get pregnant easily, multiple times! How people think they are invincible in pregnancy, how people don’t recognize the gift that pregnancy and living children are. I could go on and on, but what’s the point?
I’m just angry that my baby died. And I didn’t need any reminders.