TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains information about stillbirth and infant loss, which may be triggering to some.
Dear Mama,
We see you. We see you when you come to us, fighting tears, your hands slightly shaking as you sign in.
We see you when we ask you to change into a hospital gown, reassuring you we will be right back, knowing every minute feels like an eternity.
We see you when we put cold gel on your rounded belly, and place the heart monitor where your baby’s heartbeat should be.
We see you as you bite your lower lip, trying to wait patiently, as we explain it sometimes takes time to adjust the monitor.
We see you as we set the monitor down and leave the room to find the ultrasound and your doctor.
We see you grasping for your partner's hand as we carefully place the ultrasound probe on your baby, searching desperately for that flutter we know means life.
We see you as you look at the dark screen, tears running down your face, as we zoom in on her tiny heart.
We see you as our heart breaks apart for you, because we know she is still.
We see you as the doctor walks in and takes one look at our face, she too knows.
We see you shaking with sobs, as we hold you tight, while the anesthesiologist attempts to ease your physical pain.
We see you as we quietly coach you to push your silent angel into this world, knowing that first cry will not come.
We see you as we place her small, perfect body on your chest. Reminding you that this was not your fault.
We see you as we wash her baby soft hair, and swaddle her for you, hoping she will look like a sleeping newborn.
We see you through our held tears while we gently press her feet into perfect footprints we know you will keep forever.
We see you as we drive home in silence, attempting to clear our mind, so when we walk through our door we can pretend we are OK.
We see you as we tuck them in, kiss their heads, and smell their hair, knowing you may never get to experience this moment.
We see you in every mother who will leave our care with empty arms.
Yes mama, we see you. We see your loss, we feel your heartache, we remember you.
This essay was republished with permission and was written by Amanda Poulson of Salt Lake City, Utah.
