Saturday, February 11, 2012

February 11, 2000

Sometimes I can see it like it was yesterday.  The empty ultrasound screen.  The doctor explaining to me that he was sorry... That there was no baby... That the baby that had been conceived in love and hope had died early on, but that my body just hadn't recognized it and had kept going on as though I were still pregnant.  I can still see him, sitting behind his desk as he gave me a prescription for medication that would cause my body to naturally miscarry.

Back then, babies didnt die.

Back then, infertility was a hidden fear that I thought had been wiped away by our pregnancy.

Back then, I was so young and life was so different.

Back then, on that cold February day, I miscarried my first baby and started the long journey of orphaned parenthood even though I had very little idea of what that meant.  I started dragging my feet up the mountain of infertility that ultimately brought me to Dr. Lee's office.  It was a lifetime ago.

I was a lifetime ago.

I barely recognize that girl now.  She was so different from the woman who sits her now. 

I wonder what I/she would say to the me/her of yesteryear?


Sweet baby P... Little Peter...  A candle is lit for you on our altar today and we send our love to you on the wings of angels and in the tiny hands of heaven's smallest saints. 

1 comment:

Ms. J said...

Thinking of you and all of the babies ... Yours, mine, everyones.

I hate knowing what you mean ... I hate that I used to be a different person because of so much loss and pain.

Wuv ya.