Just a Day.
This day has been sneaking up on us. Slinking, sly like a fox, as the days of our lives keep turning. We've known it was coming like every anniversary does. We've seen it a year in advance. January 24th, 2015, just a day right? A day like any other day.
Last year, this was just a day. A day when I drove my kindergartener to school in the morning, took a nap on the couch midday, while my one and four year old snoozed in their beds. We piled in the car in the afternoon and I took all three girls to the dentist, my 38week pregnant belly leading the way. It was an evening that started slowly, I sat and chatted in a friend's kitchen while the girls had a short playdate. I wondered if the beginnings of labor was coming on and when we loaded up again for the hour drive home, I was feeling a little more sure. The long hour drive home was quiet, those wild animals I had carted around were quietly snoring. I put my husband and my team on stand-by, I messaged a few close friends. I pulled into the driveway, into the safety and comfort of my warm and cozy home.
Somewhere in the night that became the next few hours, our baby died. Died before he was born. We anticipated his birth-day for so long, I don't know that I'd ever considered his death day. I had never entertained the worry that his death would precede his life. Yet when the 25th dawned, they told me that was when he was born, I thought how wrong it was that I would celebrate his birth outside of my body on a day when he didn't even exist any longer.
Many moms in our loss world have said that the days leading up to our baby's 1st birthday are harder than the day itself. Maybe that's why this week has been bothering us. Maybe the normalcy of life this year, the normalcy of looking back at these days even last year, has been in such stark contrast to the feeling of my heart squeezing itself back into grief despite my best efforts to ignore it.
We have nothing big planned. We never do much for birthdays or anniversaries, sometimes, to my husband's and daughters' dismay. We tried to clean the house this morning...and fought instead; I swear we made a bigger mess in more ways than one. We took the girls swimming for a family outing. Thoroughly exhausted ourselves for the remainder of the night by doing that. Then I made cupcakes, with my two-year old, at her bedtime.
It was in the end, a day just like any other day. If we can keep ignoring the heartbreak, keep avoiding the memories, maybe it can always be just another day on the calendar. I'm sure next year can be a repeat of this year, since we'll never be cursed with a repeat of last year. We'll clean, we'll fight, we'll spend time with our kids, we'll cook cupcakes way too late to celebrate a day we dread tomorrow.
Last year, this was just a day. A day when I drove my kindergartener to school in the morning, took a nap on the couch midday, while my one and four year old snoozed in their beds. We piled in the car in the afternoon and I took all three girls to the dentist, my 38week pregnant belly leading the way. It was an evening that started slowly, I sat and chatted in a friend's kitchen while the girls had a short playdate. I wondered if the beginnings of labor was coming on and when we loaded up again for the hour drive home, I was feeling a little more sure. The long hour drive home was quiet, those wild animals I had carted around were quietly snoring. I put my husband and my team on stand-by, I messaged a few close friends. I pulled into the driveway, into the safety and comfort of my warm and cozy home.
Somewhere in the night that became the next few hours, our baby died. Died before he was born. We anticipated his birth-day for so long, I don't know that I'd ever considered his death day. I had never entertained the worry that his death would precede his life. Yet when the 25th dawned, they told me that was when he was born, I thought how wrong it was that I would celebrate his birth outside of my body on a day when he didn't even exist any longer.
Many moms in our loss world have said that the days leading up to our baby's 1st birthday are harder than the day itself. Maybe that's why this week has been bothering us. Maybe the normalcy of life this year, the normalcy of looking back at these days even last year, has been in such stark contrast to the feeling of my heart squeezing itself back into grief despite my best efforts to ignore it.
We have nothing big planned. We never do much for birthdays or anniversaries, sometimes, to my husband's and daughters' dismay. We tried to clean the house this morning...and fought instead; I swear we made a bigger mess in more ways than one. We took the girls swimming for a family outing. Thoroughly exhausted ourselves for the remainder of the night by doing that. Then I made cupcakes, with my two-year old, at her bedtime.
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