As I sit here and reflect back on the summer of 2014 and all the wonderful things we've gotten to do and see over the last few months, I'm struck at how far I've come. Since my first miscarriage in January 2012, the month of August (particularly the end) has always been hard. It's when our little nugget would have been due and it's hard not to think about what life would look like with another toddler running around. I should be planning a birthday party for an almost two year. Instead I find myself thinking about what might have been. I'm not as sad as I used to be and in some ways I feel guilty about that. When I think back to the day we learned our baby's heart had stopped beating the details of that day are still so fresh. When I let myself relive that day, I'm overcome with emotion. While my heart is currently filled with joy, there is a small part that is empty. A piece of my heart belongs to that baby (and the others we lost) that I'll never know. It's a strange thing really, grieving a baby you never got to meet. I had no idea losing this baby would break my heart into a million pieces and cause me to wonder if I'd ever function the same again. And while my heart has been slowly put back together and I'm a healthy-functioning human being (at times this was up for debate), I do not look at getting pregnant, pregnancy, or life the same. I've learned a lot of lessons throughout this process (unfortunately, not always the first time around), and I while I wouldn't wish to go through multiple miscarriages, fertility doctors, grieving, etc., I also wouldn't be the person I am today without those as a part of my story. And of course, we probably wouldn't have adopted when we did, therefore, baby Roz wouldn't be a part of our family. And I honestly wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, look at her! Those lips are to. die. for.
So, while I couldn't be happier with my little family of four and where we are now, I still want to revisit the day of (and those following) the first miscarriage. Those dark, hardest days of my life. I think it will be good for me. And I hope by my opening up my heart and sharing, it will also be beneficial to those reading. Maybe there is someone out there who is grieving, who feels all alone, and maybe my words in some way can help. I do think it is crazy how many details of that awful day are still so vivid. I've tried to forget, tried to block things out of my mind. But they are there. And today, the memories came flooding back to me as I sat in the very waiting room, staring at the same picture of the old white house on the wall, waiting to see the same OBGYN. **Side note: I'm not pregnant...just there for my annual check-up.
It was January 16, 2012. Our first doctor's appointment! We had just come off a fun few weeks in Houston celebrating Christmas with family, spent New Year's with our best friends who were in town from London, and had finally come down from all the holiday hoopla. Life was getting back to normal and we had been waiting for this day since we found out I was pregnant. After going through my pregnancy with Olivia, I gained an even better understanding of how amazing the whole growing a human thing is and had fallen instantly in love with the little life growing inside of me. I couldn't wait to see the little thing swimming around on the monitor, and of course, couldn't wait to heart it's tiny heart beating. Hearing a baby's heartbeat for the first time is one of the sweetest sounds ever. Truly, it's music to the ears.
