My last happy day was December 6th, 2012. It was a Friday. I had bought a new car, and had a lovely little belly to show off. I had baked oatmeal cookies for my secret Santa at work and taken photos with my family for my grandma’s church directory. We still have those photos, the poses in which I didn’t think I looked too “fat”. I was convinced I didn’t look pregnant enough yet from some angles to seem anything but overweight. I am smiling innocently in those photos. I am tired, but I am happy.
Two years ago today I was being dragged toward a cliff’s edge and I was unable to stop it. They said it might be ok, my cervix might thicken up. But at 10:30pm I went into labor. We were watching the Late Show, or something. The pain was so regular. I sat in the passenger seat of my new car, ramrod straight, timing the contractions, my head full of white static, my fists gripped tightly around whatever they could find. I was about to lose everything I wanted, I was about to die in so many ways. But I couldn’t stop it. No one could stop it.
I never thought that I would be happy again, and I guess it’s true that I will never be happy in the same way again. Now I live in a world where babies are given and taken away. Where tragedy happens not just to my patients, or on the news, but to me. It’s a different world, a scarier world, and a more precious world, too. Two years later I no longer think of the daughter whose hand I would have been holding, whose diaper I would have been changing, whose hair I would be brushing. She has truly left me now, said her first goodbye when M was placed in my arms and her last goodbye when the adoption order was signed.
The ashes are still there, on my book shelf. The grave site is just a place. I still can’t quite bring myself to part with the last remnants of my only biological child, the only human being I ever created by myself. I still flinch when I see pregnant women or witness a happy birth scene on TV.
I wouldn’t change my life now for anything, even to get her back, but gosh, it still hurts.
Mother of All Things 
This is beautifully written. Thank you for sharing
Sometimes we fall into the trap of all-or-nothing thinking. That we must be 100% sad over the loss of those we loved or we are not true to their memory. That we must be 100% happy for the people in our lives now or we our love for them is lacking. But the truth is that sadness and happiness coexist. We can feel both. And feeling both does not diminish the validity of either emotion. Love transcends in every way.
Sending you a hug.
I agree i suffered a miscarriage at 20 weeks. Very painful, and ill never forget that child. I wrote about this too recently. http://Www.lifeonthehkbar.com it is titled The Child I Never Had. My thoughts are with you, may you find peace.