Lost but not forgotten...

In June of this year I experienced a miscarriage.  I only knew I was pregnant for about 4 days before I began to miscarry.  But those 4 days were some of the best days of my life.  My whole world was turned upside down by a simple pink plus sign.  I couldn't believe how happy I was.

And less than a week later, I experienced one of the greatest bouts of sadness that I had ever felt.  When the doctor said it was "not a viable pregnancy," I was speechless.  And then for a couple of weeks when I wasn't speechless, I was crying.  It was incredibly painful trying to figure out why I was in so much pain.  I hadn't actually had the child.  I wasn't even pregnant "long enough" to establish a strong connection with the baby.

I finally allowed myself to realize that a loss is a loss.  The moment I found out I was pregnant I had created a whole life for that baby.  Goals, dreams, fears, hopes.  It was as real to me as any other person  I know.  After weeks of mourning and healing, I started to feel a little bit better.  And right around that time I found out I was pregnant...again.

I had taken the pregnancy test by myself (last time I took it with Michael).  I still smiled with excitement, but was very concerned.  I wasn't sure if I could do a round two of the previous months.  When I finally got to go to the doctor, she said something that tapped into one of my fears: my progesterone levels were critically low and if I didn't do something about it I was going to the lose the baby.

Luckily, taking extra hormones during my first trimester fixed all of that and we got out of the danger zone.  The further the pregnancy goes along, the more confident I get that everything is going to be alright and the more excited I get to meet him/her.  But...I can't seem to forget the baby I lost, the baby I now refer to as Baby June.

Of course, I never actually expected to forget Baby June.  But I have actually been feeling a bit of guilt.  Like by having this new baby, I'm completely ignoring the fact that Baby June ever existed.  And I couldn't help but feel that Baby June was still present in my life (like, the spirit of) and upset, thinking that I loved this current baby more.  Some kind of invisible sibling rivalry so to speak.  I was actually up all night worried about this one day.

I'm still coming to terms with the fact that the miscarriage "wasn't my fault."  And I'm trying to let myself believe that if Baby June is looking down on me now, that they aren't upset, but rather happy for his/her parents.  But I know, until the day I die, I will never ever forget that baby.  And I will always love it with all of my heart, just as much as I love my current baby.  There is no comparison between the two.  They are/were both my children.  And that's all that matters.