Replacing Emily

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Replacing Emily
by Skye Hardwick (c)2000 Do not use without Author's permission

On a cool November evening, I lay alone on my bed reflecting on the events of the day. Today was her birthday. Two years ago today I placed my baby into the arms of another.Two years ago today I freely stepped down as her Mother, and instead I became her Birthmother. My Emily no longer is a baby, but a toddler; and I no longer am only a Birthmother, but a mother to a son, Isaiah.

I remember of a friend who miscarried and her hatred of the comment, "Oh, you can just try again". Try for what? To replace a lost soul? My friend and Birthmothers share these two things: Some people will not allow us grieve, and they do not posses an understanding for our need to preserve a place in our hearts for our lost or absent child.

I roll over in bed and my gaze rests on the bassinet next to my bed. My sleeping newly born son occupies it. I can hear his soft breathing quicken as he stirs. He is unaware of my pain, and for that I am grateful.

Emily was so full of life today. Just like a two year old should be. She is held as a treasure from God by her family. I see the love for her in their eyes, in their smile. Every good thing about them has Emily's name etched upon it. She is the author to their happiness. Emily is where she is supposed to be, and through my pain, I have peace in that truth. I was fearful that when I had my son, I wouldn't bond with him. I was afraid I had broken that part of myself, that part of my mothering heart. My fears were laid to rest the moment I saw my son. As he departed from my womb, and left my body, he quickly entered into my heart.

People have told me that Isaiah was a replacement child. Replacing what? My first-born daughter? Do they reason because Emily is not here in my arms, but in the arms of another she needs replacing? They do not know she forever resides in my heart; regardless of whose arms she rests in.

These thoughts run through my head so late in the night. I am eased by my tears, for they are a sign I am being emotionally resurrected; if only one tear at a time. Suddenly, it all comes back to me. A flash of time surpasses and I have once again relived those last beloved moments with my baby girl in the hospital. I can still hear her cry echoing through my mind; I can still smell her scent, filling my senses; I can still feel the velvet touch of her fresh skin upon my breast.

Why is it that my arms ache? I hold them across my chest trying to stifle my tears. I just need to hold her, my baby, please God, I need to hold her. It is then that I remember my son sleeping peacefully next to me. As I peek into his bassinet the thought comes to gather him up and embrace him with the hopes of appeasing the yearning I have succumbed to. To put him in her place; only if for a moment.

No, I will not. She cannot be replaced my him; nor by any children that are yet to come. I will not dishonor my daughter or my son with the belief that one can take the place of the other. So, I lay alone, in my mourning, in remembrance to my daughter. Emily, no one can ever replace you. I have come to this realization; No matter how many babies you walk out of the hospital with, you never will forget the one you did not.

Irreplaceable Emily.

Skye Hardwick (c)2000 Do not use without Author's permission.

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