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Saturday, October 5, 2013


October is Pregnancy/Infant Loss and SIDS Awareness month.  This post was originally written on another blog I started in May 2011, but I didn't blog again after that.  I really like this piece, so I am publishing it here.

I was supposed to meet you this week.  It's strange.  I didn't even know you before you were gone and yet, I miss you still.  You were mine, but it was never meant to be.  Every time I think of you, I ache.  Grief can be transient, but the thought of you remains constant.  I never wanted anything more than I wanted you.

I miscarried my child at 7 weeks.  October 8, 2010.  I had been trying for over 2 1/2 years to have a child.  The day that I miscarried was like any ordinary day.  My husband and I were going to our best friends' house.  We had been back from vacation for about a month.  I had PCOS, so I didn't always have a consistent period.  I had stopped taking pregnancy tests a while ago, because every time I thought I might be, it was a negative.  I thought this was just another hiccup in my cycle. I had started spotting a tiny bit that morning, but I thought it was just the beginning of my next period.  I had used a tampon.  When I took a shower that evening, I removed it.  That's when it happened.  I didn't realize what the heck was going on at that moment.  Later, it all made sense.  That's when I miscarried and the waves of disappointment came crashing in.

We had taken a 6-years-late honeymoon in Cocoa Beach, Florida.  It was gorgeous.  We laid on the beach, waded in the ocean, and ate fresh, fabulous seafood.  We even did some deep-sea fishing and kayaked with manatees among the mangrove trees.  Utterly perfect.  In between of course, we made love.  A lot.  I remember telling my husband to quit nipping at my breast, because MY GOODNESS THAT REALLY HURTS, STOP IT!!  That should have been a sign, but I never connected the dots.  I was so used to disappointment.

After that shower, still in shock from what I thought had happened, we went to our friends' house and I asked my friend questions, as she'd had 2 miscarriages before they got pregnant with their little boy, who was only a month and a half old at the time.  She confirmed that's what it probably was.  How could that be?  I was stunned.  I'm not a hugging type, but she put her arms around me and let me know she was there for me.

But this week is the week.  It would've been the final week (assuming I hadn't gone early).  My coworker is due 4 weeks from now.  My younger sister, the same.  My sister-in-law in 7 1/2 weeks.  Several of my friends have had children in the last few months.

This aching grief has attacked again.  This is why I am blogging.  I no longer know what to do with my thoughts.  They tumble through my mind.  I have to organize them and so here I am.  Labeling my grief and storing it in a box for posterity.  The hurt lingers, but I will go on.  Even knowing what this week means...never meeting YOU, child.  I miss you.

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