I love the name Isaiah. While dating, I was crushed to discover that my (future) husband's nephew is named Isaiah, because that meant we couldn't use it.
Well, I changed my mind.
I'm sick of calling my miscarriage "my miscarriage", or "when I was pregnant with my missed miscarriage", or "well, last time..." All of those are about our loss. Which was heartbreaking. But what we lost, the baby that should have been, we have no words for that. (My dead embryo does not work.)
I thought I was pregnant with a boy. I may have been wrong, who knows. But we have ultrasound pictures (from the first ultrasound, the good ultrasound) of him. He existed, if only inside my body and inside both his parents' hearts.
My husband's parents never need to know that they had two grand-sons named Isaiah. We will keep it private. But when we talk about him, and when we think about him, he now has a name.
I loved my Isaiah very much. I was so sad to let him go. I want to remember the joy he brought us in his very early life, and not just the pain of losing him.
I'm glad that we finally named our first baby.
4 comments:
I totally understand. I was convinced we were having a girl, and I named her Isabel, after my great grandmother. I never told anyone, that's just what I named her in my heart.
Beautiful. Thanks for sharing this.
That's beautiful. Of course Isaiah is better than "our dead baby" any day!
That's lovely. I know Isaiah will always be in your heart.
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