D Day

Well, here it is. May 28th. D day to me. I was supposed to be having a baby today. 

I can't help but wonder what that would be like, who would be here watching the kids, if they'd be excited about a new sibling or jealous, and how close they would all be. 

I actually cannot believe how much time has gone by since we lost her and I sometimes wonder if that was it, if that's the last time I'll ever be pregnant.  It's not like we haven't tried again, but it seems like it's just not in the books. 

It's hard not to feel like a failure, like my body is doing nothing but betraying me. I wanted my kids to be close; Now, if I'm lucky, K will be 6 years older than the youngest sibling, R will be 4 years. It's just so different from what I wanted, from what I expected, from what I tried for. It's all very...empty. 

But time marches on. I can take this moment to reflect but I can't let myself get caught up in what could have been. There is only what is and what will be and I only have so much control over that.  But I will be thinking about her today and I imagine I will in the future as well. 

It's funny that there's no word for this. She was a part of our lives, we were excited for her, we had plans for her, we WANTED her. And then she was gone. Just like that. 

When a person dies there's a funeral, there are memorials, we remember them with stories and we keep them in our lives that way, by talking about them. And it's OK to do that. But when it's a miscarriage...we are expected to just let go, to move on, to act like we didn't lose someone because they were never born. To talk about them is considered morbid, people might wonder about my sanity and claim that I'm not moving on even though I have. But if I talk about my Dad who has been gone almost 5 years there's nothing wrong with that. It's all just so very confusing. 

And so today I tread lightly. Fumbling between that space of remembrance and moving on, not knowing what the "right" thing to do is. Even writing this, I'm sure I'm going to get a few eye rolls at it. But it shouldn't be like this. She was a part of me and I will remember her. I don't know how not to.