To Hold In My Hands

I thought I was going to be okay today.  In fact, until about five minutes ago, I really was.  I could think about one year ago and not get tears in my eyes.  Now my heart just feels so heavy I want to curl up and cry.

The due date passed back in March, but today was the day I lost the baby.  Not the day the doctor called me to tell me my hormone levels were dropping.  But the day I actually miscarried.  The day I wondered with every flush of the toilet if I was flushing my baby down too.

I still remember being on the couch when I got the call.  Putting the TV on mute, hearing my doctor tell me my numbers from the Friday blood draw and the Monday blood draw.  Her asking if I was okay.

The cold.  I remember the cold.  How, even though I was expecting them, her words felt like a blast of cold air, my heart fluttering and flipping and falling into my stomach.

And a few days later, in a crazy rain storm, I called my mom asking her to watch the girls so that I could run to the store for some pads.  I was not prepared for soaking up my body's traitorous failure.

The rain soaked my skin, matting down my clothes, matching my outside to my inside.  Only to really match it I would need to be ravaged by a wild animal.  The ache in my heart mimicked the ache in my abdomen.  Each twinge, each cramp, piercing my soul.  Reminding me of what was gone.  What I was losing.

And now I am left wondering.  Is this it?  Is this the end?  We've passed the due date, the anniversary of the pregnancy test, and now the anniversary of the miscarriage.  Surly now I will stop envisioning a third child with the girls.  I will stop telling myself, I could have had a four-month-old right now.

But I know it's not true.  I know that this baby will never be forgotten, nor would I ever want it to be.  Maybe it won't happen all the time (because it already doesn't), but I know that I will periodically, for the rest of my life, look at the girls and see their little sibling next to them.

Because even though I never got to meet him, or hold her, or find out if it was a him or her, this baby will be with me forever.  Which is exactly how it should be.

I just wish I could hold her in more than just my heart.

xoxo.
Christine