The silence of stillbirth

I was watching a show today were a baby was born. It was loud. The baby came out screaming and there was happiness. That's how it should be. Labor should be joyous. It should contain some pain and pushing and after all that effort, out should pop a screaming child. When I watched the scene play out before me, I didn't recall the room full of screams and laughter when Asher came into the world, I remembered how still and silent the room was when Jorai and Selah came into it. I remembered the look of sorrow that stretched across Steve's face. And the pure and utter silence the swept over the room. I remember our doctor saying 'it's a girl' and being handed an all too tiny child, who was still, silent and limp. That's not what it should be. It's not. But it happens all too often.

The moment Asher came out of me, he was screaming. VERY loudly. As if God knew that I needed to hear a loud scream. Let me tell ya, he hasn't gotten any less boisterous! He's a loud boy. Very loud. It was such a marvelous sound. It reverberated within me. I'll never forget that feeling. The feeling of a warm, wet, screaming and wiggling little child being placed in my arms, lying on my chest. I'll never forget how excited I was to be a mama to a living baby. I remember never wanting him out of my sight. I don't think he slept a moment in that plastic crap bassinet that the hospital gives you. He slept with me. All night. Both nights. Every time the nurse walked in, I acted as if I was just getting done nursing him, so they wouldn't yell at me about sleeping with him. It was such a glorious feeling, just holding him, smelling him and knowing that he was alive and healthy and mine. I couldn't help thinking that it was all just a dream.

I wonder if I'll ever have that again. I ache for it. But I also know that I should be happy with the lot I've been given...the blessings I've been given. I should be happy enough with Asher. He is amazing and I love him so dearly. He should be enough. But there's this ache, that remains aching. I want to hear that scream again. I want to feel a wiggling baby in my arms again. I want to be a mama to another living child. Is this even possible? Is it in my future?

I can still feel Selah's stillness. I can still feel the coldness of her tiny fingers, her tiny toes. Baby fingers and toes should never feel cold. Never. I can still feel her all too weightless body in my arms. I think the blanket that wrapped around her weighed more than she did. That's not right. It's just not right. No one should have to go through this. Why do so may have to endure this pain?

I'm not looking for answers. I know there are none. I'm not asking for advice. I'm just saying.

The silence of birth is horrid. I wish I could take this pain away from everyone who has been dealt this lot. I wish I could find a solution. I wish I could heal wounds. I wish I could hug all the mama's who endure this hurt. I wish I could wave a wand and make them all pregnant and that in 9 months they would deliver big, happy, loud, healthy babies. I can't...but I wish I could.