It has been four years since one of the hardest days of my life. The day of my D&C, after what was the most traumatic, medically and emotionally, miscarriages that I had experienced up to that point.
I really believed they would find a heartbeat that morning. Deep in my heart I had that hope, I didn't feel like she was gone. Yes I already thought of her as a she, the baby was already real in my mind and in my heart, and in the minds and hearts of my family. Exactly one week before, I was doing laundry in my house, carrying a laundry basket up two flights of stairs, while my three-year-old son yelled after me "mommy, you can't do laundry, you have a baby in your belly!"
And I remember as I walked up the stairs hearing his words, hearing my grandmother's voice in his voice, wondering why I heard her, chuckling to myself that maybe she was there. It was her birthday, after all.
But there was no heartbeat and the D&C went on as scheduled and I came home broken.
I hated the date, I hated the reality, and I hated the world for going on with its normal daily things.
The sun was too bright. People laughed too loudly. Cars were going so fast, didn't they know that I was dying inside? Couldn't the world slow down just a little bit for me, so I could stay closer to her, closer to the "before", further from the pain?
I still despise this after. My life around this week, around these dates, is perforated by the loss. I swear, and I know it's probably crazy, but I don't look the same anymore. I am sad and I am haunted by her loss. She should be here, and none of this is right.
I know that some people might read these words and think that I am wallowing in my sadness. People might think that my grief is too raw, that I share it too openly.
But acknowledging my pain acknowledges her existence. Acknowledging the ways in which I've changed through the loss allows me to grow from it.
And sadly, I know that losing her made me a better person and a better mother. I love the bright sun for the warmth that it brings me, radiating through through my pores and reminding me to breathe. I am living my life more vibrantly each day, and I do it for her, in honor of her.
I am honestly, with every passing anniversary, more proud of myself for how I have grown and survived.
No days can take away my pain, but no days can take away the strength that I have gained, either.
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