What's in a Name? |
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We’re not back to the “TTC Phase” yet. In fact, it’s more like the “drag yourself out of bed and do your best to not collapse at the end of the day” phase. There are days (like today), where I would prefer to just stay in bed and curl up in the fetal position (oh, the irony) and cry. Where the thought of “it was meant to be” makes me want to scream. The knowledge that something was wrong and this was supposed to happen doesn’t make one ounce of sense. Today is just another day of coping and grieving and moving forward. I’ve been going to a therapist. I have no shame, but thankfulness. She has helped me process my thoughts and grieve in a healthy way. She encouraged me to name the baby. To give the baby an identity other than “the baby.” When I was younger, I knew a woman who lost her baby at 35 weeks. She named her Emma, a name that she had been longing to use. I always wondered why she named her Emma because she wouldn’t be around to call her that name, the name that tasted so sweet in her mouth. But I get it now. I get that it was her daughter. I get it now that she didn’t care if she never called that name to dinner or ask that name if she had homework or report that name absent for school or cheer on that name at the volleyball game, it was still her daughter and she had decided many years prior that her first daughter would be named Emma. And so it was. And it just makes sense now. I never understood, but I GET IT. It was her daughter. None of the other stuff mattered. Oh, it just doesn’t matter. I don’t know what “the baby” was. I don’t want to call him a her, or she a he. It just doesn’t feel right. Maybe I’ll get there, but right now, I’m just not ready. One day, though, I hope to have my own little Emma or Zoe or Elizabeth or Jacob or Elijah or Luke. ((All wonderful names, but none we’re considering. You don’t think I’d go and tell you what I was naming my next baby, do you??)) Comments (3)
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