A Paizleyless Story

To a childless mother, life is full of constant reminders of a dream stripped away. How ironic it was when, the other night, the coupon that printed up for me at the grocery store as I was buying a case of beer was a coupon for two dollars off diapers. Here I am, purchasing something I wouldn’t even turn my head at if she were still here because I would be two weeks away from the big day, and I am given a little reminder of a lost little girl. It’s always a little punch in the face. I wanted to turn around, grab the diapers in place of the beer and walk out, forgetting all that has transpired over the last four months. I wanted to close my eyes as I walked into the house, walk back into the nursery and put the diapers away in her closet among the stacks and stacks we have been collecting for the many diaper changes ahead. There is no nursery though. Her room is an office. Her closet isn’t full of adorable little girl dresses and her drawers aren’t full of warm footie pajamas. In her closet hangs our winter coats and clothes that couldn’t fit in our closet and in her drawers lies my wedding dress, computer cords and at the very bottom, the very last drawer is a bag full of clothes. The last drawer holds baby clothes, right where they belong- in the nursery. They are the only trace of baby in her room; little clothes stuffed away for one day. These little onesies are yellow and green and orange, the colors that represent the first trimester; the one where you don’t know whether to buy pink or blue, but just want to buy something. The day after I revealed the big news to my family, they drove me straight out to the outlet mall in Anthem and bought the baby every unisex outfit, blankie and bib, they could find. They now lie stuffed in a bag in a drawer. I never got to buy all the cute, little, frilly dresses with bows and lace because the day we found out she was a little girl was the day we found out she would never get to come home with us.

As we sat in the waiting room that day, I was so excited. I beamed and smiled and squeezed Ryan’s arm so hard. I kept asking and asking, “Are you excited?!?” and he would reply with, “Stop! I’m nervous. Why are you so excited?” He was getting annoyed. I couldn’t sit still. The countdown had begun weeks before and everyone was on the edge of their seat. We were all waiting to hear the news we had all been waiting for since the day I revealed I was expecting, “It’s a girl!” I asked Ryan in the waiting room how we should let everyone know. I decided we would go buy a little pink pair of booties and post a picture on Facebook and through text of us holding them up for all to see that yes, we would be welcoming a little girl! He thought I was crazy for having it all so meticulously planned out. He is a realist who fears every negative outcome. I couldn’t fathom anything going wrong so I hopped up on that examination table without a worry in the world only to receive news I wasn’t prepared for. Meanwhile, all our friends were on my Facebook page having a conversation about what they thought the verdict was, introducing themselves to each other, telling stories about how they met me and expressing their nervousness on why it was taking so long for me to post something. They thought maybe I had found out it was a boy and was upset about it. It was a big day for everyone who loved me. And of course we know how the news ended up. That day has become a benchmark in my life. It was a day I will never forget. I left that office with hope that they were all wrong, though I knew in my heart I would be saying goodbye.

As a childless mother, I am constantly reminded of my empty belly. Seems like everywhere I look, some beautiful woman is beaming with that “pregnancy glow.” I see that pregnant belly on women and though I want to look away and continue on with my day, I can’t stop staring. I imagine it on me, how I would look with a baby belly, how I would look today. Though I was five months along when she left me, I didn’t look like I was pregnant yet. I still had that “I packed on a few pounds after the holidays” belly. I never got to experience what it was like for people to notice I’m expecting without me telling them. I never got a chance to feel pregnant.

(20 weeks, sticking it out a little. ;) )

As a childless mother, I feel like I am always missing something. This emptiness has been especially hard around the holidays when mothers are hustling and bustling around with their baby carriages, towing their other little ones behind. I know no woman would think that at a time of pure chaos and craziness another woman is completely envying her, but yes, I am. I wish I could tell her to relax and cherish the time she gets to tote around her children because there are others who do not have that, but then I remind myself not to be a freak and I go about my way. Every time another friend or family member announces the big news, every time I hear someone tell another about someone who “just found out they are pregnant,” a little piece of me clenches up and screams inside. My only wish I will ever have is for that day to come for me again. For someone to tell another, “Erica just found out she’s pregnant!” It will happen one of these days.

The gift that Paizley has given me is to never take the people and things in my life that I love for granted. Losing her will make me a better mother to the children who will be and are present in my life. I have found an outlet to vent my sadness, though I really am quite a happy person. The magnitude of the pain I have had from losing her has shown me the magnitude of happiness I will have when looking into my first child’s eyes. If I can love a child I’ve lost as much as I do, the child that lives won’t know what to do with all the love they receive. And I can show that love now to Riley, who I adore. I can share my happiness with him and I can hope to share with him a little brother or sister one day.