I can't believe it's been 7 months since I saw my precious baby. When I was pregnant, 7 months was a good thing. I picture last March and I immediately smile. I was getting excited for my baby shower and checking my registry every day. The nursery was painted and starting to resemble the little safe haven we had designed it to be. We were taking Labor & Delivery Classes and getting more and more excited (as well as scared). My feet were swelling and it was getting harder and harder to wear real shoes. We were interviewing pediatricians and day care centers. We were trying to prepare ourselves for sleepless nights and unlimited joy. Spring was THIS close and with it, the arrival of our little girl and we were happy.
7 months ago today, we said hello and goodbye. It's impossible to fathom or wrap your head around...even for me now. All those hopes...all those dreams. Her nursery is now a guest room. I emailed the day care that we would no longer need the enrollment forms. I assume the pediatrician thinks we just chose someone else.
I went from ordering Cd's for baby lullabies online to ordering books on grief. Instead of looking at the baby registry, I look at blogs from other parents who have said goodbye to their babies way too soon. I feel like I am in a fog some days...when all I hear in my head is, "My baby died. My baby died. My baby died." I mean, what else is there to say after that? I throw out the "Parents" magazine that I so happily ordered and pitch the Babies R Us coupons right into the trash.
When the fog clears and I am able to breathe, I see that the there is still good out there. I see family and friends who would do anything to erase my pain. I see my husband, who carries the same pain and agony in his eyes as I do in mine, reaching out to hold my hand or kiss me on the cheek. I see new babies being born and I rejoice...as no one should ever feel this pain.
I am not sure where we will be 7 months from now, but I sure hope in less pain. I will always miss my daughter, so beautifully named and so very loved, but I dream of a day when I can really remember the pregnancy and the excitement and the anticipation and not the agony, sorrow and the tears.
Thanksgiving. It's nearly upon is. So different than I thought it would be. But what isn't? So I will pick myself up, wipe away the tears and be thankful to be here, to be loved, and to have hope. For hope is what we cling on to every single day.