You have to start somewhere

As my baby and I lay dying on the hospital bed, I kept thinking about this blog that I'd started. I kept thinking how helpful it would be to have a laptop propped on my belly because the experience was so unreal that the only way I would be able to believe what I was feeling-thinking-understanding-experiencing would be to document it here and read about it later. That I'd just had time to come up with the delightfully clever title before the whole world crashed down around me.

I remember at that point the sides of my face and hair were drenched from the torrent of tears that pooled into oceans on either sides of my head. The nurse came in to turn down the volume on the fetal monitor, and I begged her to leave it loud. Because I feared it would be the last time my baby's heart would beat.

These snippets of memories are rising to the surface as the time passes and the trauma begins to work its way out into the open. Memories I wanted to forget, that I should be ABLE to forget given the ultimate happy ending my story vows ... but that linger until I can give them fresh breath and a glimpse of new life and send them on their way.