One year ago was my last happy day. The day of December 6th I had family photos taken with my grandma at her church, made oatmeal cookies, and showed off my new car. That night I took a shower and went laid in bed before sleeping with my home doppler on, my heart soaring with happiness at the “boomboomboom” and the “swishswishswish” sounds of my baby inside. I was so insanely, unbearably in love with that little person.
The morning of December 7th I went to work as usual. I listened to my mp3 player and felt the baby move as she always did on my morning drive. I parked, walked through the hallways and suddenly felt blood coming out. Six days later my baby died just prior to delivering her, after a placental abruption sent me into irreversible premature labor.
I knew I would feel raw about December 13th, but I did not expect this burst of sadness and emotion surrounding December 6th and 7th. But afterall, that moment, that first rush of blood, was when my world turned upside down. So I guess it makes sense.