July 13

One year ago we brought our daughter home in the smallest urn that Forest Lawn had to offer. She would've fit in an altoids tin, but I guess this will be harder to misplace. It wasn't in the catalog and I'm so glad she saw it in the listings and saw that price was lower than the big plastic one. A shoebox size chunk of plastic would've been pretty offensive.
No one will remember today. But I guess there's not a lot I can do about that.

One.

It's been one year since our daughter was born and died. (Not in that order.)
And you're not going to say a word about it.

Okay.
That sucks.

July 3

Cried alone in bed for 2 hours last night. No, I wasn't alone. Josh was there. Sleeping.

She's just a baby that was never born. Something that didn't happen. Maybe to a few people she's something that happened to us, a tragedy.
To me... She's my daughter. This is still happening. It will never stop happening. She's my daughter and she died. I will never be over this and it will never be over.

But you're pregnant again.

Her daughter was 5 when she died and her son is going to die, too. He's very sick.
I was showing her my bracelet and she asked who Willow was.
So I told her.
But you're pregnant now, she said.
And I said, yes.
But what I meant was
She's still dead. One baby or a hundred more, Willow is dead.

21 weeks

I accidently opened the "Your Pregnancy..." email I get (and delete) every week. I don't mind seeing the subject line. "Oh, hey, I'm (however many) weeks," but I don't want to see the little cartoon fetus and read advice that doesn't really apply to me.
But I was just clicking up through my new mail and there it was. A little cartoon fetus at 21 weeks. I already know what a fetus looks like at 21 weeks. Well, a dead one, anyway. I imagine a live one looks pretty much the same. But, you know, alive.

What am I waiting for?

When we're leaving the MFM office last week, I kept looking over my shoulder. DH finally told me to stop, that the Dr wasn't going to come out after us and tell us that something was wrong.

This baby is healthy. This baby is coming home with us.

What am I waiting for?

I still haven't told anyone else that I'm pregnant. I didn't tell Sandy at cake class. I didn't tell Laurie at My Gym.

Sometimes I tell myself that I'm waiting until after 21 weeks. After when Willow died and we cremated our baby. After the bad news. But why?

OB Appt.

Dr asked how I was.
I wanted to say "I'm still here."

I was nervous because I hadn't checked the heartbeat - I check the heartbeat before every appointment. (No surprises, please.)
It wasn't until Dr asked about movement that I realized - if I can feel the baby moving, I know the baby is alive.
They hadn't gotten the u/s report yet. So I couldn't ask for it.