A Parallel Universe

I had a friend in graduate school who used to talk about this girl he liked. He’d always say “in some other universe, we have a smoking hot relationship.” I don’t know why, but this keeps popping into my head these days. It has me thinking (hoping, maybe) that there is some parallel universe where things worked out differently.

I like to think that there’s another world out there where my husband and I are home enjoying time with our newborn daughter right now. I’m sure we’re complaining about the lack of sleep or the crying and changing of diapers. But, I hope we’re appreciating how special it is and are grateful for what we have.

I have this vision of walking through my house, holding my baby girl and singing to her. Visions of watching her Dad hold her and rock her to sleep. All play like dreams in my head, but so strong that I kind of hope they are a window into another world. It’s weird—in these visions, I can see us so clearly, but I can’t see her. She’s always swaddled in a blanket or blocked by a person so I can’t see her face. It’s like another reminder of getting so close to what could have been. And then the vision slips away.

I hope these parallel universe parents understand how lucky they are. Getting to hold that baby girl is something I got to do for such a short period of time, but now the emptiness is so strong. They’ll get to watch her take her first steps, teach her how to ride a bike, and send her off to her first day of school. They know what color her eyes are and what her laugh sounds like. They’ll know her favorite foods and the signs that she’s tired or hungry. They get to hug and kiss her and celebrate her birthdays and Christmas with her. They’re the luckiest parents in the world, because I have no doubt that she’s an amazing kid.

And then it hits me. Even though there may be this parallel world where we get to raise Vivienne, I don’t get to be in that world. I’m in this one. The one where we mourn not getting to do all of those things with her. The one where her loss is so much bigger than I can explain. The one where I cry tears of sadness rather than tears of joy. The one where I have to try and make sense of it all. Even though I want to be in that other world, I have to be in this one, and I have to figure out how to make my way through it.