The "my baby died" club

I will get back to my story soon but today I felt compelled to share something else. When I was a teenager, my cousin experienced a stillbirth. It was distant to me. It was awful, but it was something that happened to somebody else. It always happens to somebody else. This cousin of mine went on to have four other live births. Her life decisions weren't always the best. To my knowledge, one of those children are in her care today. This cousin was someone that I became a little resentful of as I grew into my own infertility. I had allowed the idea that she lost a baby completely escape me because I was buried under my hard feelings for fertile mertile. 

Just today, I realized that my cousin and I, whether I like it or not, have a connection. We are a part of the “my baby died” club. This isn't a club that anybody wants to join. I don't even want to be part of this club now. Somehow, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you potentially hate a person, this little thing in common brings you together, whether you like it or not.

She had told my mom right after we lost Jasper that I could talk to her if I needed. She said she had been there. She didn't say that she knew how I felt. I respected that. She doesn't. I don't know how she feels either. I was honestly annoyed when my mom told me that she offered to talk to me. We haven't spoken in probably 8 years or more. (We had a falling out which I would love to write about another time.) I was absolutely not going to talk to my cousin about anything, let alone losing my baby.

I contacted her today. The “my baby died” club has an unspoken rule which we all seem to figure out on our own. We stick together. We don't go through it alone. I realized that I needed to give her proper condolences. I never did when she lost her baby so many years ago. I didn't know how. It's easier to just say nothing. It happened. That's that. Easier for others perhaps.

This is what you say to a grieving mother. You tell her that you will not allow the memory of her baby to fade. You tell her that they mattered. They were important. This is what I said to her. “I will keep your baby girl in my thoughts with her cousin, always. I will never forget about her.”

My baby has made me a better person. This is his legacy.