Resent: to feel or show displeasure or indignation at (a person, act, remark, etc.) from a sense of injury or insult (Dictionary.com)
I stood at the window of my huge private room holding and rocking my two twin boys. I was singing all of the lullabies I could possibly think of and for a moment I forgot that this would be the first and last time I sang to them. Then, I saw you. Being put in the far corner room away from the nurses station and all of the happy moms and crying babies couldn’t entirely protect me.
To the woman leaving the hospital
I watched you being wheeled down the hospital sidewalk to your car. Pink balloons, flowers, and a tiny little baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket in your arms. Following you was your daughter and husband. You looked so happy and watching you reminded me that I wasn’t going to be taking my two in my arms home with me. I felt my entire heart shatter in that moment, but I don’t resent you.
As I shattered and tears ran down my face, I began to smile. I smiled for you and your happy family. I remembered what that exact moment felt like. Being wheeled out of the hospital with my daughter in my arms is still clear as a bell to me. I was elated and terrified all at the same time. I was ready to make memories with her father and her big brother, just as you 4 will now make together. That memory brings me immense joy. So, I smiled and cried and sang and held my babies that much tighter.
To the woman who posted her pregnancy announcement
the very second I decided to check my Facebook for the first time since losing my twins, I don’t resent you. I saw your beautiful picture and smiling face and I cried in front of everyone in the waiting room that day. I cried while I waited anxiously for my first appointment since leaving the hospital. The tears were because I hurt so badly and I felt broken. But I was happy for you. I was scared for you. Immediately I began to pray for you and your unborn child. I prayed for protection and I prayed that you would have a healthy pregnancy. I prayed that if you ever heard my story, it wouldn’t scare you.
To the very pregnant woman
that walked in after me at my first counseling appointment, I don’t resent you. You apologized for missing your last appointment due to contractions that failed to progress into labor. You were hoping to miss next week due to having a newborn. I felt the sorrow wash over me. I wished my labor was something that I was sitting around waiting on. There were no feelings of jealousy, but seeing you reminded me of what I had lost. I prayed so hard for you that day. Right then and there, I closed my eyes and prayed for a healthy delivery, a healthy mommy and a healthy baby. I saw you about a month later and you had the sweetest little baby boy with you. My heart was overjoyed.
To the woman who spoke on her abortion
and colorfully expressed her opinion on being pro-choice, I don’t resent you. With every word you spoke, I could feel my heart break. It shook me to the core to listen to someone speak of “terminating” their pregnancy. You chose to kill your child, but I had no choice for my boys. My husband and I refused to induce and end my pregnancy, even when we were told how unlikely any good outcome would be. We loved our unborn children so much that we would risk it all for that small chance of saving their lives… and we couldn’t.
Anger and angst began to swell in my chest and I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t. I felt sorry for you. Your actions and words sadden me, but you have no idea what you are fighting for. You don’t know what it’s like to hold your tiny baby in your arms for the last time. You have no idea what it is like to not have a choice if your baby lives or dies. Instead of succumbing to my feelings of hatred and bitterness, I prayed for you. I prayed that God could come into your heart and guide you to a better path. I prayed for your forgiveness and I prayed that you could forgive yourself and move forward. Then I had to pray for myself. It would be so easy to hate you, but I prayed that I could continue to replace that hate with love.
To the moms who experienced early miscarriages
during my clinical rotation in Obstetrics, I don’t resent you. Many people will tell you that you got an easy out because it happened so early. Please do not believe them for a second. Whether you miscarried at home or had a procedure in the hospital, you didn’t get to kiss your child. You didn’t get to hold your baby or see their face. I’m not sure if you preferred it to be that way, but if not I want you to know that my heart breaks for you. Being able to hold Walker and Clark made all of the pain worth it. I denied any medications during labor because I wanted to be fully aware when I met them, I got to choose to meet them. I’m sorry you did not get that choice.
I am sorry that I listened as the doctor explained most likely causes. This isn’t a common medical condition to you. You lost your child and I’m sorry that at the time I had no idea what you truly felt. I am sorry that I looked at you sympathetically while you looked back at me trying so hard to hold your grief inside. I should have told you that it’s okay to cry in front of me. You experienced a life-shattering loss and I’m sorry that I made you feel as if you had an audience that day. No matter when or how it happened, you lost your baby and I want you to know that I think of each of you often, even before this happened to me. I pray for you and your family. You are strong and beautiful, and I am forever inspired by each of you.
I don’t resent you
Somewhere on this journey, I read an article about women that experience miscarriage. It spoke on the resentment they feel during every day moments- seeing a pregnant woman at the store, finding out your friend is pregnant, listening to a woman protect her opinion on abortion. Some women spoke of the guilt they felt in front of another who had suffered such a loss. I’m here to tell you that you shouldn’t feel guilty. These moments may hurt but they also bring me joy. I love thinking about Walker and Clark, my angels. They are every bit mine, no matter how long I was able to spend with them in this life.
I didn’t get to leave that hospital with my babies in my arms. Instead, I refused the wheelchair and walked ever so slowly with a box of blankets, gowns, and memories in my arms. I walked out feeling as if I would collapse onto the sidewalk that so many moms and babies leave happily on. I felt no resentment. No bitterness, just grief and love. I thought about the mothers who left like this and I found strength in their journey. As I waited on the car, I stared at that big window on the corner. There is a piece of me that is still standing there, rocking and singing to my boys. I didn’t get to physically take Walker and Clark home, but they came with me that day. They are with me every single day.
To the woman writing this, I don’t resent you.
I blamed you in any way I could think of. Your body failed Walker and Clark and I hated it. It may have took a while to get here, but I can say now that’s it not your fault. I hope that you can continue to find your inner strength. In those moments that you feel so happy, guilt and grief comes and steals that happiness from you, I pray for your strength to withstand the turmoil. I pray that you can continue to smile through the tears. Remember to show your children that it is okay to grieve and share this hurt. Pray for your husband because he lost so much too. I pray that you continue to cling tight to your faith. You will hold and kiss and sing to your twin boys again. And it will be a glorious day.