A year ago today I was in Hawaii, sitting in the ER in Honolulu, and the doctor told me "the product of conception is no longer viable." What he meant was that my baby had died. The baby I had longed for for eight years, the baby we were so excited about, the baby we already loved. Even though I was only twelve weeks along, the baby was part of our family.
When Bill and I had to tell the kids and my mom, we were in shock and heartbroken. They had known we were going to the hospital, but when we said the baby had died, the first thing that the kids said was "Are you serious? You're kidding, right?" I told them I would never joke about something like this, and we cried together. Then we took a walk along the street and the beach and cried some more and talked about serious things. We discussed how the baby would forever be a part of our family, even though we would never hold it in our arms. We chose to name the baby Joy. We did not know the gender yet, but this child had brought us such joy already, it seemed fitting for either a boy or girl. We then bought ice cream treats to celebrate the life of Joy, however short it may have been.
I am going through this sadness alone today as my husband is in Iowa, taking care of his mom's estate. She died last Friday. I am just overwhelmed with grief. I know I should reach out to someone today, but the only person I want is not able to be here with me. I think I will just hole up and take a bath and a nap.