Last Friday was friday the 13th. It was a good ish day. Very unlike a friday the 13th not long ago. The one where it was my turn to learn what losing a child feels like. Whenever I see a pregnant lady looking happy, I think about me that day. I went out to lunch before my appointment and I just wanted to shout to the world, "I'm going to have a baby." I felt like I was just beaming, brimming with excitement. The ultrasound that day was beyond shocking. I don't know if i'll ever look back on that day and be able to fully connect to the incident. I feel like it was someone else lying on that table, someone else who didn't see her babys heartbeat. Friday the 13th always brings back these memories. But, as they're almost all I have of my baby, I cherish the memories, both good and bad.
18 April 2012
14 April 2012
"hey, mom, remember when you had a baby the size of a pinto bean? This box would have been a good size for it."
Upon watching 19 kids and counting, when they learned baby number 20 had passed away:
"did you finish watching that show, or was it too hard for you?"
I never fail to be amazed by the spontaneity or wisdom of my kids. All this time, I thought they just forgot, but apparently I was wrong to feel that everyone forgot or no one cared about my third kiddo.
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