The Days That Mean Nothing To You….

…but mean something to me…

Last September was a great month for me. It was the month we found out we were pregnant and I spent the entire rest of the month trying to keep such an exciting secret. Truth be told, we told more people than we planned to, but we were just so darn excited.

So for the past month or so, I’ve been thinking about how my life was exactly a year ago…all the yearly events that were going on that year and how they are panning out for this year….

The Sunday before Labor Day was the day we found out we were pregnant and the following day, we announced it to close family. Over Labor Day weekend this year we were camping, so I was able to get away and have a short run in the woods. I did ok until I saw a dad come walking down the trail with a baby in a stroller, and that’s when things started to break down.

We also attended a family game night at church recently. It went well but all I could think of was how a year ago at that same event, I had told a couple of parents there that night that we were expecting, only to find out a few days later that there would be no baby. Now that we are into October, we have come to the point where the blissful idea of a new baby ended so abruptly.

Unfortunately, so many of these significant days happened near things that happen every year or are significant on their own. For example, I miscarried the week of the Fall Festival in our town, which is one of my favorite things that happens around here. So not only will I remember that the Monday of the Fall Festival was the day that I was told there was no baby at my ultrasound and then went from there to the Fall Festival, only to have to pretend to everyone I saw there that I was fine and hope to God that no one asked how the ultrasound went, but I will also feel something on October 5, whatever day of the week that falls on. So on the Thursday of the Fall Festival, I’m going to remember feeling the gestational sac literally rip away from the inside of my body that night as we were actually at the Fall Festival, and I’m also going to relive it again on October 8, which is the Saturday of the Fall Festival. The Friday of my kids’ Fall Break, I’m going to remember being alone with the kids by myself, making a phone call to my doctors’ office to tell them I had lost the baby, and dragging both my kids to the lab to have my hormones checked, the whole time still cramping, bleeding, and crying. And I’m going to feel it all again on October 9, which is a Sunday.

I’m almost angry because October has always been one of my favorite months, but it will always be the month I lost my third child and spent the rest of the month walking around in a daze. With the fall weather moving in, I’m feeling it more and more…that the last time I was here, I was hurting badly. And the world will go on like it does, and few will notice the significance it all holds for me, so I will hold it in my silence and allow myself to feel it all again and hope that it passes quicker this time around.

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