Innocence Lost

I’ve been thinking a lot lately that I want to go back to college. Not back to take classes, get another degree, or anything, but I want to be 21 again and living the carefree naïve life that college provides. I know what you’re thinking—everyone wants to be younger. But it’s not that I want to be younger, I want to be back in a world where everything seemed like an opportunity, and I never thought about the bad things that could happen.

I’ve heard from lots of friends since losing Vivienne, and we always end up with the same conversation—“remember when we thought this would all be so easy?” It covers so much—friends who haven’t found their spouse yet, people struggling with infertility, parents of children with developmental delays or chronic illness, people losing parents, grandparents, and yes, children. There was a time where we thought it would be easy and that things would just come together somehow. But now, some of our innocence is gone—we know that life is hard, that it isn’t fair, and that bad things happen that stay with you for your entire life.

I miss the innocence I had before losing Vivienne. When I was pregnant with her, I was worried, but I could be at least a little carefree about it. I was still able to think about names, plans for after the baby comes, plan a baby shower, and register for baby gifts. Now I know that if I’m lucky enough to get pregnant again, I won’t plan. You know how they say God laughs when we make plans? That’s about how I feel.

I wish I could still find that optimism that I had before. But now, I know so many bad things that can happen (it’s the bad side of support groups—you hear everyone else’s story, and recognize a thousand other things that can go wrong). I know that passing certain milestones like the first trimester or the 32 week mark doesn’t mean you’re safe from tragedy. I know that going into labor with a healthy baby at full term doesn’t mean you’ll get to take a healthy baby home. I know the other side of pregnancy and childbirth. And while I’d like to say that knowledge is power, it really feels more like a punishment.

I have to admit that I get kind of bitter listening to other pregnant women plan for their child’s arrival. It comes with the innocence that I envy—they don’t know that nothing is for certain, and that things will happen that are completely out of their control. I don’t wish what happened to my husband and I on anyone, and I certainly don’t want to be the person telling expectant mothers “don’t be so sure about that” (I’m pretty sure that makes me an evil character in a fairy tale). It’s not that I want to take their carefree innocence away—I just want mine back.

When I started this blog, it was to explain to people what the loss of a child feels like. As I write more posts, I realize that in losing Vivienne, I lost much more than my daughter. In a lot of ways, I lost my hope.