Butterfly Baby

I held Chloe tight in my arms as I scanned the restaurant for our table for 12 that was waiting for us. 



We were on the last leg of our mini vacation to Niagara Falls, stopping off for one last dinner before heading home from our trip with our entire family.

I could feel the exhaustion of travelling with a newborn and lots of young kids setting in as we pulled up to the restaurant--hungry and tired, but happy from a fun few days away with everyone.  

As I stepped towards the crowded tables and manoeuvred past fast moving waiters carrying trays of cold drinks, I could feel eyes on me in the dim light of the room.

"Oh my", I heard from behind me, "she is beautiful".

I turned my head to see an older gentleman staring at the tiny baby in my arms. His wavy hair filled with streaks of grey and deep wrinkles on his cheeks that moved when he smiled told a story of a life well lived. He wasn't much taller than me, so when I looked up to see who was talking to me, our eyes locked immediately.

I smiled back at him, "Thank you", I heard myself say as I ran my hand over the tiny body tucked in my arms.

"She looks so little, was she a preemie?" he asked with a curious, but warm smile.

"No, she was actually 6.1 pounds when we left the hospital" I told him, "and she's now a bit over 7 pounds".

"Oh, that's wonderful", he continued, "my daughter was so tiny at that age too--and we're now here celebrating her 25th birthday. Hard to believe. I really do remember her being that small all those years ago. She was actually a surviving twin, so this birthday somehow feels even that much more special".

I could feel my heart stop for just a second and I lost my breath for a moment.

I looked down at my sweet girl and then looked back up at him again "She is a surviving twin too", I said quietly.

His eyes instantly filled with tears. I mean, immediately.

"Ohh...oh wow" he said between deep breaths. I watched as his body fell a bit limp and he moved towards me.

"Oh I'm so sorry", he continued, "it's just the hardest, isn't it? It's just so awful" and with a tear running down his cheek he pulled me in and gently hugged me, carefully wrapping his arms around me without touching the sleeping baby in my arms.

I was taken aback a bit, a little surprised at this stranger who all of a sudden had his arms wrapped around me as he cried--but it then odly felt okay, like I somehow knew him, like he was somehow familiar to me and like I somehow understood him.

Because, well I did.

I tried to look away as he gently pulled away from me, knowing that if I looked him in his tear filled eyes the flood gates of my own grief would open--and I wouldn't be able to close them. I would be standing in a packed restaurant, baby in arms, two sobbing strangers hugging each other while everyone stared at us, dumbfounded, wondering what on earth was going on. So I took a deep breath, and I told him I was so sorry for his loss as well.

"You have a butterfly baby, a beautiful butterfly baby", he continued.

I pretended like I knew what he was talking about.

Then before I could even respond, a young girl with short dark hair that fell just below her shoulders interrupted us and the man quickly said to her "Look at this beautiful baby--she is a survivor, just like you". And he introduced me to his 25yr old daughter.

She gushed over Chloe for a moment, then turned to her dad and put her hand on his shoulder--a gesture of comfort towards him that didn't need any words. She saw the tears in his eyes and understood why they were there.

Twenty five years later, the grief was still raw.

She pointed to her ankle where a tiny butterfly tattoo sat. "Just as a reminder of my twin that I unfortunately never got to know" she said.

"It's beautiful", is all that I could muster.

I felt like I was in a bit of a dream--this family grieving a loss that happened so long ago, combined with my fresh grief that I still haven't fully dealt with, standing in a packed restaurant that somehow all of a sudden felt incredibly quiet. I felt their pain and they felt mine--and as I stared at this girl with the butterfly tattoo it spun me ahead 25yrs, picturing what life will be like for Chloe as she thinks about her twin that she never had the chance to know.

We left the restaurant that night after our plates were cleared away and we packed up the six kids, whose bellies were full and whose bodies were tired. And in the silence of the car ride home I looked up "butterfly baby" on my phone to find out what it meant.

I scanned pictures of purple butterfly stickers stuck to baby bassinets and incubators in hospitals. It turns out that hospitals will sometimes place purple butterfly stickers on the bassinets or incubators of babies who are twins/triplets or multiples yet who lost a sibling. This way nurses, visitors or people passing through will know the story of the baby before even meeting him/her and the parents won't have to explain their loss over and over again and those around her will understand if the parents are extra emotional or need some space to grieve.

I immediately thought back to the moment when I was sitting at the edge of my hospital bed, cradling Chloe in my arms and sobbing--then feeling like I had to hide my tears as a new nurse walked into the room since I just didn't want to have to explain myself. I wish that I had had a purple butterfly sticker that day.

So to Chloe, our butterfly baby, we love you. We loved both you and your twin from the first moment that we saw those two beautiful sacs, side by side and those beautiful baby heartbeats that were once so strong together. And as that stranger in the restaurant taught me that day, life moves on--Chloe will one day be that 25yr old girl celebrating her special day with her family. But you never forget the pain from that loss.

Even 25yr later.

Erica xo