I will never forget that moment, or the moments following where I got to tell my husband he was going to be a dad.
A few weeks later, December 12th 2009 those happy moments were washed away. There was bleeding, a call to our OB who we hadn't even met yet, and an ultrasound on a Saturday while it was pouring rain outside washing my dreams down to the ground.
I will never forget that day.
I will never forget the emptiness I felt when I realized I was no longer expecting a baby.
No one understands this pain unless they've gone through it, and though there are many analogies that could compare it, the raw emptiness of it is never quite describable.
I feel almost like I'm re-living it lately. A song will play on the radio, and I remember hearing that very song while this horrible loss was happening. The thought of going to Christmas at my husbands grandma's house, just as we did days after my surgery, exhausts me. It's the familiarity in the air, the warmth of my home during this month, the smell of pumpkin and cinnamon that I loved so much during that time.
It was the time of calm before my life turned in to a storm that has lasted for two years. But, I believe the storm is ending. I am at peace with what has happened, and though I don't understand why my life unraveled the way it has, I know that I have to move forward.
I won't use the term "move on" or "get over it" because there are things that we never really leave. We just put them up on a shelf in our hearts, take them down and cry with them in our arms when it's appropriate, but otherwise, we let them be. They are always a part of us and we are better because of the imprint they've had on our lives.
Rest in peace, baby. Rest in peace, my little sister. Rest in peace, my fearless heart. I am better now, stronger, but even the strong shed tears sometimes.