A year ago today I stood in disbelief staring at the home pregnancy test. It was positive. This one and the three others I took before deciding this probably meant I was pregnant. Still, how was it possible? Just two weeks prior, I'd been to the doctor and diagnosed with an ovarian cyst.
Then I became nervous. I didn't want to be pregnant. We just got married. We just decided to wait until the fall to start a family.
But then came excitement. I was going to have a baby! I have always wanted a bunch of kids. Being one of five children I couldn't imagine anything other than a large family. One of the many reasons I love my husband is his obvious adoration for his younger cousins. He wanted a bunch of kids too. A baker's dozen to be exact. We were going to start a family. How exciting! This would be perfect.
Or would it? My excitement turned into fear as I immediately thought we're not ready to have a child! My husband's still in school. I work for a small nonprofit. We live paycheck to paycheck. Besides all that - even at 33 years of age - I thought I'm not old enough to be a mom! Some days I can barely take care of myself! How can we have a baby?
Of course, all anxiety about this pregnancy was relieved the moment I told my husband the news. Any trepidation I had immediately subsided when he - in his signature dimply grin - asked "really?" and reached for the test to see for himself. I don't think I'll ever forget his face at that moment. This was going to be perfect. Our fairytale was continuing. Next stop: happily ever after... for the three of us.
I'm trying to focus on that time. That blissfully ignorant time in my life. The wonderful experience of a first pregnancy. The time in my child's life where the only tears shed for her were tears of joy. Back when it wasn't all painful.
Trying to remember that part is extremely difficult sometimes though. Especially this week. It's funny how dates creep up on you. In the back of my mind I knew January would bring back memories but I didn't think it would affect me this much. Certainly not as much as September when her due date was or May when she was born still. January wasn't affecting me ... or so I thought until this week.
This week it's taken all I have to get out of bed in the morning. Actually, on Monday I didn't. I couldn't make myself get up and go to work. My overwhelming sadness was aggravated by the fact that I got my period. A period that didn't come a year ago. I spent the day in tears. Crying about everything: my baby's death; my inability to get pregnant again despite a period that comes like clockwork; the apparent ease that everyone else seems to have in getting pregnant, staying pregnant, and bringing home healthy babies; and the feeling that while so much has changed over the last year, it seems like nothing has. It's quite a load to bear - all this self-pity. My husband, not knowing what else to do, crawled into bed too and just held me. And then later took me out for ice cream.
Thursday brought another flood of tears. A friend (a fellow BLM) sent an article about three NCAA Division I basketball coaches who lost children. Tears streamed down my face as I read these men's stories about losing their babies. But I had to shut the door when the tears turned to sobbing. That happened when I read the following: "We all move on. We learn how to live again and get up and dress ourselves again and be good parents to the kids who are still living. But in the end, a part of us died with our kids. That heartache will be a train we ride to the day we die.” I think a part of me did die when my daughter died. And the rest of me - the part that has to get up and dress myself and learn to live again - is still having a hard time getting out of bed.
But today - on an anniversary I'm not sure "normal" women would remember - I'll focus on the positive aspects of my pregnancy with Lily. I'll remember the excitement we felt when she became a part of our world. I'll remember that perfect moment in time when our family and future was falling perfectly into place. I'll remember the tremendous joy her little life gave us for 20 weeks and 1 day.
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