Yesterday weighed on my mind in fleeting moments. Four years ago yesterday, I finally lost the second pregnancy. I can still remember it vividly, my body still aches, and my heart still mourns. It feels wrong not to mention it, and yet I don't want to dwell.
I think the largest part of it was that I didn't want to make others uncomfortable.
Whenever I mention my losses, it happens. People tell me to move on, remind me how lucky I am, or they ignore my mention, or worse- they get silent as if to say, "You're not over that yet?"
No. I'm not over that yet.
I don't think I could ever "get over it," if you want to know the truth.
Four years have passed, and that baby is still gone. How do you get over that?
In some ways that one was the hardest. I was the furthest along. Physically it was very traumatic, as I crouched on the floor wracked with contractions. Emotionally, staring down the gestational sac in person, not on the ultrasound machine, and wondering what I should do with it... was hard. Is still hard. I shouldn't have to know what a gestational sac looks like in full material form outside my body. My first experience with contractions should have been with the birth of my child, not a loss.
Many things were taken away from me that day.
I have my son now. That's true. And he makes my life amazing, and everything we went through worth enduring. But he doesn't replace the others. I've said it before, but while he helps mend my broken heart, it's not his job to take what's broken and make it whole again. No matter how we put the pieces back together, it will never be the same. There will always be fine lines, cracks, memories of what happened.
And you know what? That's okay.