The Birth Date

It was a girl. It was never confirmed, but I just knew it was a girl. My symptoms were vastly different from my pregnancy with Beau and I could sense that my body was carrying someone different, someone special. I craved Mcdonald’s french fries with an unmatched intensity. I pictured all of the little trips we would take to get french fries when I would remind her that this was all I wanted to eat while she was growing inside of me. The headaches were relentless and I assured myself that this was just the beginning of what it would feel like to raise a daughter. The fatigue was draining me and I imagined my daughter growing more beautiful and strong with each mid afternoon nap I spent slumped on the couch. The brevity of our time together was insignificant to the eternal bond that was conceived the moment I got two faint lines on a pregnancy test.

Even though my daughter is gone, she still lives inside of me. She introduced me to a completely different version of myself. There was me before her and me after her. As much as I miss the old care free me, this new me has a profound understanding of life. I have discovered truths about myself that I never would of obtained had I not been reduced to my most vulnerable state.

I have established a devout connection to the spiritual world which is a gift in itself. Not only do I connect with the baby I lost, but I’ve also connected with my future baby who I believe is a boy. I have found peace in the trenches of my grief. My daughter has reminded me that the turmoil of my life after loss was not a punishment but a lesson to be learned. I’ve been instructed to focus not on what my daughter took away from me, but what she gave me in return.

My gratitude for the child I do have on this earth has only been magnified by the loss of our daughter. The support groups I’ve been led into due to our unfortunate circumstances have taught me that I am not the worst off. There are so many women who do not have any children on this earth and have been desperately trying for years. There are women who are missing both of their fallopian tubes and have no chance of conception other than undergoing invasive IVF. There are women who have no trouble conceiving, but for some reason cannot carry a baby to term. This world of infertility and pregnancy loss that I have begrudgingly been invited to has shown me how truly blessed I really am. I feel lucky to be able to look at it from the inside out.

My daughter taught me to listen to my body and follow my intuition . She implanted in my fallopian tube and as much as she desired to continue growing she knew that her and I would have no chance of survival if she stayed. She didn’t trigger a physical response as I hardly had any of the tell tale warning signs, but she did engage my intuitiveness. Despite my desire to carry out a normal pregnancy and to be pretend like everything was okay, I was constantly distracted by this nagging premonition. I became convinced that something was wrong despite every medical professional telling me that I was okay. My persistence and intuition is what saved my life. My daughter threatened my life just as soon as she saved it.

May 7 used to be the due date and now it has quickly become the birth date. Tomorrow my daughter would be 1 years old. It’s going to be a rainy day, I know that would of throughly pissed me off if I had a party planned. It always rains when you have a party. There would of been bouquets of pink balloons and rows of streamers cast throughout. It would of been a princess party. I probably would of rented a castle bounce house. This is special because Beau has a winter birthday and we’ve never had the opportunity to do something like that. I would probably hire someone to come dressed up as her favorite princess and everyone would be sent home with goody bags filled with glitter. She would be toddling around in a little tutu with a crown hanging out of her mouth that should really be on her head. I imagine her with little blonde pig tails with the elastics surrendering to the softness of her hair as they fall out. I picture a majestic birthday cake with soft pink frosting and chocolate as rich as my daughter’s brown eyes. I can see Beau attempting to help his sister blow out her birthday candle and a sibling quarrel ensuing shortly after. I picture us all surrounding her high chair leaning in for a family picture. I picture us so happy, so complete.

Happy Birthday to the little girl that I know so well, yet, I never got to meet. Thank you for the lessons and the truths you have instilled in me. I am a better person because of you. I used to think that you took life away from me, but you have really given life back to me.

Until we meet again.

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