Taking time away from the world to spend with family was much needed over Archer’s angelversary. However, the days since the 14th have felt emotional. I have been very up and down over the last few days. 

Over the last week or two, we have seen many pregnancy announcements, newborns, and littles turning one. Don’t get me wrong; I am happy for those experiencing these fantastic milestones; however, it brings self-pity and sadness because it either (1) reminds me of my loss or (2) reminds me of what/who I don’t have.

We don’t have a pregnancy announcement. 

We don’t have a newborn.

We didn’t get to celebrate a first birthday, and the second birthday is around the corner.

I don’t want people to feel they can’t share their excitement with the world or hide it because I see it. These are all things to celebrate, and I keep telling myself that it will be my turn again one day. 

Before Archer got sick and his passing, I probably lived in a world that was seen through rose-colored glasses. Since his passing, my perspective has shifted. 

I thought getting pregnant would be a breeze for us, which, thankfully, with Archer, it was. (I know now that this is not everyone’s reality, and now it’s not ours.) I feel the heartache and pain people have gone through to be parents. 

I knew having a newborn was exciting and a blessing. In my mind, a sense of ‘purity’ surrounded this life event. Now, there is a level of fear. These are just some of the thoughts that go through our minds when we do give birth to a newborn:

• Am I going to be asked if this is my first?
• How do I tell the nurses that this is my second child, but they will never meet their sibling?
• How long until we know if our baby is 100% genetically okay? How long for the final tests to come back?

Having Archer’s first birthday party was something I had started planning when he turned six months old. I was all over Pinterest trying to figure out ideas, decor, outfits, food, and more. That was so quickly taken from us before his birthday. Singing “Happy Birthday” to your child in heaven feels surreal. It’s an experience parents should never have to go through.

These are just the simple things over the last two weeks that have had me thinking about how my perspective and world have changed since losing Archer. 

There are no more rose-colored glasses on. I don’t know that I can ever go back to that, but one day, I hope to wear a rose-colored monocle and see the world from two perspectives.