First, second, third, what does it matter?

Since losing Hope, I’ve had an urge to reach out to mothers just like me. I wanted to know about those of you who had suffered my fate. Mostly women who had gone to term and who had lost their baby to stillbirth or shortly after birth, and mostly first time mothers.

And you’re everywhere. God damn it, you’re everywhere.

I thought I wouldn’t be able to connect with those who’d lost second, third or fourth babies. Those who’d lost one of a multiple. Those who’d had early losses and miscarriages. Those who were infertile or unable to have children.

But I come to realise, though our stories are different, our pain is the same. Losing a child of any gestation, any age, at any stage is Just. Not. Right.

While being a childless mother is a unique pain, maybe one day down the track, a long, looooong way away, I will be thankful that if I did have to lose a child, it was my first.

What a screwed up thought to have, but I see it like this:

If I’m lucky enough to have more kids, I’ll hopefully be able to end my child-bearing years on a high note. Death, life, life and maybe life again if I dare to dream and if I’m lucky.

I’m also lucky in that I’m still young (and hopefully fertile) enough to make that happen. I do ache for those who have lost their last baby, and had so many their positive memories of birth tarnished by death. To know the last baby they would ever hold in their arms would not grow old. I know there are many of you out there too, and I’m so very sorry.

For you see, I simply do not know what I am missing out on losing my first. Don’t know the joys of breastfeeding. Never been able to wear my baby in a sling, close to my heart. Never seen my child smile at me, wide-eyed and full of love. Never marvelled with joy as they rolled over, crawled or took their first steps and never heard the words “I love you Mama”.

With the death of my first born, I am not only mourning my child, but I am mourning my lost shot at motherhood of any kind. While for many, that chance comes again (and I’ve taken such delight in reading about so many of you), but for some of us, our dead baby might sadly be it. Those with infertility issues. Those who are older. Or those who are simply too terrified to go through it all again, to put their heart on the line. Some of us, may just end up as the lady with the dead baby. Sad. Sad. Sad.

Losing my first born has ripped my heart out. It has changed the way I look at the world and it has shaken me to my very core. I am now walking through life with my eyes wide open.

I know I just said maybe I’d one day be OK with it. But right now, I’m not. I wish I had a 5 year old to drop off to school. I wish I had a 3 year old to take to preschool. I wish I had an 18 month old to chase around and giggle at. Mostly, I just wish I had someone to mother because right now I have a lot of mothering energy and no one to give it to.

I have no doubt parenting after loss is painfully hard, and I hope I never experience it, but parenting when there is no child, well it’s just not fun at all.