Eight Years
As the sun prepares to set on another August 1, I sit alone in my thoughts surrounded by people I love. And though I know the love is true and that I'm not alone, I feel guilty. Guilt for forgetting.
I almost forgot the date.
Eight years ago, August 1 marked the beginning of the end.
I almost forgot today.
I almost forgot that we found out that the life that we were so eagerly expecting was not to be eight years ago today.
When I realized that today was the anniversary of that awful weekend, my heart seized. The guilt began to seep into my brain. The tears flowed from my soul.
How could I forget?
For eight years, I have sadly anticipated August 1, reliving the pain through my memories. Wondering if there was something I could have done, though I know there was nothing. Remembering the moments of fear until it was finally confirmed.
This year, I thought about it a few times throughout July, and then completely forgot. I think about it often, but usually this time of year brings an intensity to the memories that can be completely overwhelming. But this year, I forgot.
Until I remembered.
And the grief and pain that washed over my heart felt just as fresh as it did eight years ago.
Who would that little life be if she had lived? Would she be bright and kind like her younger brothers? Would she be persistent and fearless like her younger sister? What would our lives look like if she had lived? Likely not how it looks now. With her loss, we gained E. He wouldn't be here if she had lived. We would have not had to celebrate a rainbow baby.
So, it is with a grateful, heavy heart that I think about what might have been. The guilt that I felt during E's pregnancy is just as strong now as it was then when I think about what we have without her.
Miscarriage and pregnancy loss is a terrible thing. Especially early pregnancy loss. Losing a baby so early, before it even begins to feel "real." What I wouldn't give to have had one minute, one second just to hold her body and see that she was real. Instead, I'm left with memories of a body that had just begun to change before the pain set in.
In my rational brain, I know that all the things that we say about baby loss is true. That it was for a "good reason." That she just didn't develop properly so nature took its course. But in my heart and soul, I long for what might have been.
Tonight, I will be more gentle on myself. I will cherish those that are here and mourn for those that are not. A moment of silence and quiet contemplation to honour the life that is not here. And then, I'm going to go snuggle and hold those that are.
I almost forgot the date.
Eight years ago, August 1 marked the beginning of the end.
I almost forgot today.
I almost forgot that we found out that the life that we were so eagerly expecting was not to be eight years ago today.
When I realized that today was the anniversary of that awful weekend, my heart seized. The guilt began to seep into my brain. The tears flowed from my soul.
How could I forget?
For eight years, I have sadly anticipated August 1, reliving the pain through my memories. Wondering if there was something I could have done, though I know there was nothing. Remembering the moments of fear until it was finally confirmed.
This year, I thought about it a few times throughout July, and then completely forgot. I think about it often, but usually this time of year brings an intensity to the memories that can be completely overwhelming. But this year, I forgot.
Until I remembered.
And the grief and pain that washed over my heart felt just as fresh as it did eight years ago.
Who would that little life be if she had lived? Would she be bright and kind like her younger brothers? Would she be persistent and fearless like her younger sister? What would our lives look like if she had lived? Likely not how it looks now. With her loss, we gained E. He wouldn't be here if she had lived. We would have not had to celebrate a rainbow baby.
So, it is with a grateful, heavy heart that I think about what might have been. The guilt that I felt during E's pregnancy is just as strong now as it was then when I think about what we have without her.
Miscarriage and pregnancy loss is a terrible thing. Especially early pregnancy loss. Losing a baby so early, before it even begins to feel "real." What I wouldn't give to have had one minute, one second just to hold her body and see that she was real. Instead, I'm left with memories of a body that had just begun to change before the pain set in.
In my rational brain, I know that all the things that we say about baby loss is true. That it was for a "good reason." That she just didn't develop properly so nature took its course. But in my heart and soul, I long for what might have been.
Tonight, I will be more gentle on myself. I will cherish those that are here and mourn for those that are not. A moment of silence and quiet contemplation to honour the life that is not here. And then, I'm going to go snuggle and hold those that are.
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