This week is the due date of our second daughter, Emerson Kathryn Wiatrowski.

Instead of celebrating her birth, I’m mourning her loss. The would-have-been’s and should-be’s. I’m filled with tears instead of joy. Heartache instead of laughter. An empty room, an empty womb.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be. We were supposed to be going into labor with our baby girl. We were supposed to be in the hospital, cradling our newborn addition. Smelling in the sweet scent of a newborn child. Introducing our first born to her little sister. Bringing her home for the first time, introducing her to a new world. Soaking in all the moments of those first days with a new baby.

It was told to me shortly after losing Emerson that when we lose a loved one, often times we grieve the person lost and the dreams that accompanied them. This week, and lately, I have experienced more pain over the dreams than any other time. At the beginning, I missed her. I missed her in my belly, kicking and growing bigger each day. I still miss her. But now, I miss what would have been with her. The late nights rocking her to sleep, early morning feedings, mid-day naps where we both fall into deep, peaceful sleeps. At times, the grief is so overwhelming it is unbearable. If you have ever experienced grief, this may resonate.

My husband told me recently he felt that I haven’t fully processed Emerson’s death. He’s right. And I don’t know if I ever will. It isn’t fair for someone, anyone to lose a child. And grief doesn’t have a timeline. There is no endpoint or finish line. I could feel fine for weeks upon end and then all of a sudden, the loss hits me like a ton of bricks as if it happened yesterday.

I don’t know where to go from here. And I don’t know how to process it all. I’ve taken up journaling consistently and praying fervently. I talk to friends and have started blogging again. I read scripture daily and listen to worship music often. All in hope to heal. Maybe one day I will.