Saturday, April 29, 2006

I woke up Saturday morning feeling fabulous. I seriously felt better than I had since becoming pregnant. I spent some time in the afternoon sitting outside on a blanket reading, just enjoying the weather. It had been a long winter, and having warm, dry weather was wonderful.

My upstairs neighbor’s mother had come to visit her. Her mother was a labor and delivery nurse, and when I told her that I felt so good, she told me she’d expect me to go into labor within the next couple of days. I didn’t know if I believed it, but she swore up and down that it was common to get a “second wind” right before labor.

A friend of mine had told me that they were having a girly movie get-together at her apartment that afternoon, so when the time came, I walked over to her place. The short walk over had brought the shooting pains back, and nausea came crashing in on me.

When I arrived at my friend’s house, to my surprise it wasn’t a girly movie, but rather a baby shower. I was touched, really touched. I hadn’t expected a baby shower because I had no family nearby, and I had just a few friends. Well, 4 of those friends decided that 4 was enough, and my baby deserved a party to celebrate her. I don’t think that they will ever know how much I appreciated it then, and how much I do now. She may not have lived to her birth, but she was loved and celebrated just like any other.

One of them, not sure who, asked me how I was feeling. I answered, “I almost don’t care about the baby; I just don’t want to be pregnant anymore.” No other sentence I’ve said has ever haunted me like that one. 3 days later, I wasn’t pregnant anymore, and I had no baby. I got my wish. As much as I can tell myself that those words had nothing to do with her death, it still hurts to remember them coming from my mouth. I just remind myself that that pregnancy was so difficult, and it was the physical hardship speaking those words. Of course I wanted my baby. I would have been pregnant for months longer if it meant I could have taken her home alive.

But it hurts so much that I said that at all.

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