R.I.P.

We love you, Jonah baby.

We hurt for his grieving parents, Adrian and Noah, coast to coast. We also are sad for his big brother, Coach.

Wuv you, Jonah, forever.

Yep, Still Feel the Same

And they say time softens the blow. Hah.


I am watching the Hist.ory Chan.nel footage people recorded that day. Ya know, THAT DAY. And I still feel the same. I want to make sure every piece of scum is eradicated from God's green earth. I want them to meet Satan, after a prolonged amount of torture that begins by Marines, the NYPD, and the NYFD shooting them in the gawddamn kneecaps, then delivered the world's biggest ass-kicking, where they slowly die the most torturous of deaths possible, followed by eternal damnation, courtesy of The Big Guy, God.

Never Forget. Never.

Semper Fi.

Small Steps, Big Leaps of Faith, and Quiet Moments.

A year ago today was thee happiest day of my life. I found out I was pregnant, and despite some tragic history, was feeling really hopeful about this third chance. And for a while, Life was wonderful, and beautiful.

Then something terrible happened -- we got the news that she was too small, and probably not going to make it. And that is what went on to occur, devastating us. So, just as the Due Date for that baby hurt like hell, so does the memory of the date I first learned she was alive inside of me.

Pulling yourself together after such profound grief, and learning to go on, and even contemplating trying again is amazingly difficult. Even still. And its why, even with the pending adoption of our Lil' Pumpkin, I still have moments when I am cynical and scared. I now expect Disappointment in my life. The vulnerability I have acquired often keeps me from preventing it.

But on Saturday I did something that was really difficult for me.

I bought baby clothes for Lil' Pumpkin.

I have avoided doing this ever since we started our "Path to Parenthood," because it felt like I'd be jinxing the whole thing.

With m/c's #2 and #3, it seemed that just when I started to allow myself to dream a little bit, by looking at nursery bedding online (yes, online, not even in-person at the store), our world was shattered shortly thereafter by the loss of our baby.

But Dr. J had to go to the mall to return something anyway, so I shyly asked him if he would accompany me to take those scary steps into the store. I wasn't sure if I'd even be able to buy anything, or if the fear and doubts would take over. He assured me that he would be there to reassure me, and gave me a big hug. And I cried (what else is new, lol?!)

We went into Children's Place, and I bought two pink t-shirts, and one pair of pink shorts for Lil' Pumpkin. I thought they'd be good mix & match items, versatile, and appropriate choices since we'd be picking her up in the high heat of a southern China summer.

Then we went to Target, and picked out just a few more little items, like an adorable hoodie (I seriously LUV this hoodie), a lil' shirt that Dr. J liked, a pair of khaki shorts, and her first pair of jean shorts.

It was truly a leap of faith to do this. A small act, but it required enormous bravery on my part. It meant I had to dig deep and have some faith, and allow Hope to occupy just a tad more room in my heart.

I hope she (Hope) sticks around.

So through my tears, today, I am also looking ahead, and allowing myself little moments to dream. To think about all the things that we were going to do with the baby lost last year . . . and all the things we WILL do with the baby we will welcome home in just a few months.

Words Not Always Enough

A beautiful, smart, sassy, wonderfully bitchy friend of mine is hurting tonight.

I am glad she reached out and let me know. Gawd knows how many manic & panicked emails I have sent her.

But I feel so helpless right now. She lives 2,500 miles away. I would give anything to have a private jet so I could rush out to my "2.0," so I could buy her a new Louis Vuitton, and stuff our faces with ice cream. Or just stroke her silky black hair (we joke about how men think hot women comfort one another by playing with each others hair).

I wanna wrap her up in a big hug, and tell her that what she is grieving will never be okay, and it will always hurt . . . but I then would whisper in her ear that I will always be ready to listen to her grief, and that I will never get tired of it, no matter how many times she needs to bring it up.

It's what I'd want someone to say to me.

2.0's pain is excruciating, and haunting. And it made me take down a prior post, because I love her enough that I don't want anything I have written (though completely undirected at her), to cause her any pain.

I just want to love her and reassure her and slow down her swirling mind.

It's what I'd want someone to do for me.

Year in Review

Ugh, I can't believe it's time to do this. Again.

But I am big on tradition and introspection (however phucked up both may be), so I will once again write out my "good/bad/learn" list. What kinda sucks is that I thought LAST year was bad. And yet THIS year actually managed to eclipse last year's, in terms of suckiness. Which again, has me shaking my head and wondering why I pushed so hard to leave "The Land of Fruits and Nuts and Flakes." So, to Dr. J, I preface by saying, with great sincerity, "I AM SORRY" for insisting that we leave Kal-ee-forn-yah. I thought moving back east was the right thing to do. Clearly, I was wrong. If I could take it back, and move back, I most likely would. Who knows, maybe we will in a few years.

Anyhoo, here's Da List . . .

WHAT WAS GOOD:

1. Dr. J taking the risk of starting his own practice. It took serious balls, and I am proud of him; and for his constant reassurance that I am okay, doing okay, and will be okay.


2. Nicole's wedding.


3. Second cousins. Dave & Natalie, Emily & Rob, Dana & Nick, Bob & Bobbie, Zanne, Beth & Joe, Julie, Buzz & Kathy . . . you have no friggin' idea how much I look forward to each and every moment I spend in your presence! You came back into our lives a few years ago to help me out when I could no longer care for my Mom on my own, and have taken care of me along the way. YOU ALL ROCK!


4. My job. I worked hard for it, and appreciate the gift it is every day.


5. Meeting Kirsten in person (finally). And all of her amazing and insane emails.


6. Adrian's liquid hospitality. And her throw pillows.


7. Lori met the love of her life AND got engaged -- all in the same year! Finally, something I prayed for gets answered by God.


8. My Dad started to get healthy. Holding my breath it spills over to other parts of his life, too.


9. Seeing Cirque du Solieil. Three Cheers for the "O"!


10. For Hamster texting me at the right time. And offering to bitch-slap The Cow.


11. L.I.D. 11/14/07!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAT WAS BAD:

1. Watching my husband continue to be treated as a second-class citizen by the LILT (Long Island Looney Toons).


2. Endless doctor appointments and painful procedures.


3. The shock of home ownership incidentals.


4. Hot Tub Foliculitis.


5. Car problems on the way back from D.C.


6. Irresponsible parents. My own, especially.


7. The horrifyingly stupid things people say when you lose a baby. It's astounding. Even after three babies it still cuts me to the core.


8. Stupid local politicians. And stupid state-level ones, too.


9. Being scared that I am going crazy, and effectively being unable to do anything about it.


10. Self-imposed poverty.


11. Losing Gabrielle.

WHAT I LEARNED:

1. Naval Academy graduates can be quite kinky (who knew?!)
2. Dr. J is a magnet for fainting strangers.
3. HM can be horrified by bad fashion and bad taste.
4. The expiration of a Notary's commission is a matter of national security, apparently.
5. I can move a passport out of backlog, to the front of the processing line, and overnighted to my home in a matter of 18 hours. Or rather, I know people who can, which is equally important!
6. Fergie's sage advice "If You Ain't Got No Money Take Yo Broke Ass Home", which has inspired HotMary and mine's semi-serious motto of "Upgrade!"
   
7. Sandi is the best listener I know, and her gems are invaluable.


8. Lori never thinks I am insane, even when I do.


9. Dr. J's godparents are the best people I know. I'd give anything for them to adopt me, or even just him.


10. Nobody loves the ugly, scary, mean & weak parts of me. Except for Dr. J.


11. It will happen. I can make it happen. I can move mountains . . . of paperwork.

WHAT I AM GOING TO TO DIFFERENTLY (a new category!):

1. Finish and begin checking off things from the "Distract" and "Prepare" lists.


2. Make an honest, active effort to be more positive.


3. Recommit to taking better care of me. Which means 10 more pounds to shed -- not 'cause I need to, but just for the hell of it.


4. Strive to keep my office tidy.


5. Be more fun. More bold.


6. Laugh more.


7. Try to make up with God.


8. Force/explain to members of the local posse that I need to have "standing dates" with them (Lori, Lisa, Sandi, Shannon #2, Shannon #3, HotMary -- this means YOU, chickies!)


9. Invite people to our home, instead of keeping them at arms length.


10. Keep my mom and stepfather a bit more at arms length.


11. Stay focused at work.

Surviving the Holidays -- Part Three (Monday/Christmas Eve)

Monday started off okay enough. A little bit of melancholy for me this morning, but tried to get re-focused by thinking about the pending yumminess of a few slices from Renzo's. And oh my, was the 18-month wait of that deliciousness ever worth it! Ahhhhhh! So, our Pizza ranking list looks something like this:

1. Renzo's (Port Jefferson, Long Island)
2. Mineo's (Squirrel Hill, PA)
3. Di Pietro's (West View, PA)
4. Sir Pizza (Ross, PA)

After we were sated, we drove around Port Jefferson to take photos of all of the places important to Dr. J's childhood memories . . . the idea was for us to have a photo record that we could share with Ping-Ping someday. We took photos of his favorite beaches, the houses he loved in, the Village shops, his high school, the ferry & pier, and of course Renzo's. I know I got some terrific shots of the beach terrain, which I am hoping will show up well enough in black & white that I can have one printed for inclusion in my proudly growing dining room gallery of black & white photos.

We then did a quick swing by the house which Dr. J's father and stepmother recently moved to. Hmmm. A lot of strangeness here, and things just not making sense. We speculated privately, so I will refrain from posting any thoughts about this in my blog.

We were then expected at the home of Dr. J's brother, sister-in-law, and our two young nephews. The boys were great, and the visit was going well. We then accompanied them to dinner at the home of the sister-in-law's parents. We were having a lovely visit there, too, and then out of freaking nowhere, post-dinner, my sister-in-law decided to be a MASSIVE BITCH and give us all sorts of completely undeserved grief about shit which she knows nothing about. On top of all this, she KNEW what a sucky day Xmas Eve and Xmas Day were going to be for us, and STILL she persisted. I tried to hold out as long as I could, but yep, there they were, the big tears! That bitch drove me to tears for a good 20 minutes. But of course, she knew it was for our own good WTF?! Go drink some more chardonnay and pop some more food in your chubby mouth, bitch!!!

Thank God for my Hamster texting me as we drove back to the hotel, or I don't think I'd have survived. Seriously, I turned the corner when Hamster texted "I want to come up and slap her for you!"

So, in a move that surprised even myself, I refused to go back to the sister-in-law's house this morning for breakfast. Phuck her. This is MY DAY to be selfish. She doesn't deserve my tears, my rage, my anger, my grief. I made Dr. J go, though, so he could spend time with our nephews. Later on I will join him for Christmas dinner at his Dad's.

I didn't want to let this day be ruined by what happened last night, so I tried to do something positive and proactive by focusing on the adoption. Thus I spent my alone time this morning surfing the 'net, learning more about the other adoption path we have decided to begin pursuing, which is adopting locally, of perhaps a black or mixed-race child. I am learning alot, and even came across an article that made me feel better about my Chinatown Meltdown the day prior.

I don't know what is going to happen with the Long Island Looney Toons, today or in the future, but I have been figuring out that opening our hearts to children who exist right now and who need us, as much as we need them, will give us the healing and push we need to let some of this background noise bullshit start to mute. So I am now reading profiles of "waiting kids" in earnest, trying to imagine our lives with them, and theirs with us.

All I want for Christmas . . . is to take a half-dozen of them home. Now.

Remembering Baby B

Pookie,

Today sucks for you. Don't ever feel the need to apologize for your grief. Anybody who tells you to "get over it" or "move on" can go phuck off. And if you need me to tell them for you, just say the word (just as I know you would do the same for me).

Wish I could be with you at this very moment, and we could cry together. And then go do something very destructive, like spend money we don't have.

Promise me you will get the ice cream, and chow down as planned. In some small way, I will be with you then, too.


All my love belongs to you today.

XOXO,

FC

The Most UnWonderful Time of the Year

It's been building, that's for sure. And now I know that I have about a week's worth of increasingly shitty days ahead of me that I have to endure.

At this point, I know my best bet is probably just breaking it down into smaller chunks of survivability -- hour by hour, even minute by minute, if I need to. (I sound like I am in AA -- 'cept I am running towards booze, not away from it!)

The financial squeeze makes it difficult to comfort oneself, too, of course. As well as my insistence upon not letting the body I have dragged back from obesity wander once again into the Land of Fried Food and Fat Clothes.

So how will I do it? Quite frankly, I am not so sure I can.

But maybe if I write it down a bit, I will take back the teeniest measure of control, instead of further lapsing into the out-of-control mess I have been finding myself subsisting in.

Okay, here goes . . . THINGS I CAN DO TO SURVIVE THE NEXT WEEK:

• Check in with Kirsten, and make sure SHE is surviving (she is in equal pain)
• Go to the gym, but not punish myself if I chose friends over the treadmill
• Allow us to have a nice meal and maybe a treat or two in NYC, since being a tightwad ain't exactly spooning with me at night
• Telling people point blank that I need them THIS week, regardless of how busy they are
• Being kinder to myself, and acknowledging that I am allowed to be a raving, lunatic, emotional bitch this week if I need to
• Drinking at least one glass of wine each night to calm my nerves and smooth out the frayed edges
• Sending out as many Christmas cards as I want
• Stop trolling the internet for bad news about China
• Keep trolling the internet for children around here who need us now, and allowing my heart to open to them
• Finishing the "Distract/Prepare List"
• Taking my Mom's car to NYC, so we can use the EZ Pass for free
• Remember the key phrase we worked on in therapy: "Rollerskate, not Ice Skate!"
• Begin psyching myself up to lose 10 more pounds next year
• Give in to what feels good, for just one week, instead of being logical
• Focusing on watching out for Dr. J as we invade Long Island -- nothing kicks my ass back into gear as much as the "Fight or Flight" instinct (wanna guess which one emerges in me when my back is against the wall? Yeah, try tripling it when someone comes after my man -- bitches, I mean, In-Laws/Out-Laws, I ain't so down that I can't wipe out ALL your asses!)
• Reminding myself that the timing is just where it needs to be, and was meant to be, and had to be, in order to achive the perfect end game

Cheers.

Mental Snapshot

What a mixed-up two weeks I am having. So much has happened, and yet nothing has changed. I have about a thousand things I should be writing about, and yet I have no patience to really sketch it all out, from a literary standpoint.

So I will cop out, and just do a quickie list-type entry, which will have bits and pieces that will make sense to some people, none to others, but plenty to me (while accurately reflecting the mental jumble that is my brain).

Commencing Random Thoughts:

* I love the show "Confessions of a Matchmaker" -- not only is Patti a hoot, but it makes you think about how YOU would be critiqued if on a date.
* My stomach still has not recovered from nauseaville, I swear. I can't seem to fully shake this thing, even though it's definitely improved. If I drink any more diet ginger ale I may float from all of the carbonation.
* "The Bourne Ultimatum" freakin' ROCKED! It was worth the wait.
* Seeing a movie at the drive-in was divine -- we had such a blast, especially munching on Chinese food during the opening scenes.
* I can't believe how quickly we've been able to submit all of our adoption paperwork -- I am proud of us!
* More and more excited about going to Kal-ee-forn-yah next month. Just hope we don't get too tempted to move back?!
* People, pick your mate well! It astounds me sometimes the bad choices people make when it comes to life partners.
* We like our house, but hate our kitchen.
* I never thought I'd feel worse a few days after surgery than the day of it?! My abdomen alternates between soreness, pain, and feeling like jello. UGH!
* Along the same lines, I can't wait to start resuming my workouts in earnest. But at the same time, I am so pooped that it's hard to imagine getting up to full speed anytime soon (but I'll probably be okay by the 4th workout, if the past is any indication).
* Ventured to IKEA this weekend. Managed the experience better than I thought. Even managed to bring hope with me.
* Hamster and I are going to navigate through the next few years just fine. She is such a treasure, and makes me feel pretty darn useful, at a time when I feel pretty damn useless.
* Dave and Natalie are very special people. They make my heart full, and they make it ache.
* Still praying like crazy for Shannen.
* My husband may not be the toughest guy in the world (um, that would be Jason Bourne), but he is tough enough to handle my tears. Every last one of them. And with the same genuine concern as if they were the first to have ever fallen.

So THIS is Feminism?

In the interest of full disclosure, back in college I was a self-proclaimed Feminist. But around the time I started grad school, I began to see the light. The light shown even brighter while living out in The Land of Fruits & Nuts & Flakes, and now I am a happily sassy, good-looking, red, white & true Conservative! My pendulum has even swung far in the other direction on matters of Pro-Life v. Pro-Abortion (sorry, "choice"? Use that word and you are stupidly letting the opposition frame the argument, suckers).

Anyhoo . . .

Came across this article this morning:

Infanticide, Abortion Responsible for 60 Million Girls Missing in Asia

Granted, I am inclined to take this DAMN personally right about now. Try being me and not being offended by this?! But actually, everyone should be outraged!

It has me so pissed off, so angry, so hurt. It's not news to me, as I have been well-aware of it for a good decade. Still, it astounds me that people still cling to the ridiculous notion that abortion is somehow good for women? Which women? The 60 million is Asia who have been MURDERED?

How about the 45 million babies who have been murdered since abortion was legalized in the United States? Let's see, if one-half of those were female . . . 22.5 million little girls (some of whom might have grown up to be liberal Feminists) have had their lives extinguished.

And please, spare me the whole "what about rape and incest" argument. Yes, those are terrible, and RARE occurrences. While I have been sexually assaulted, I can not imagine that overwhelming horror. I know that it is STILL an abortion, still a Human Life that is being taken. I am willing to allow for these rare circumstances, so long as these women receive extreme counseling, and are introduced to a loving American couple or social service agency who stand ready and willing to bend over backwards to support them through their recovery, and ADOPT their baby when born (and make sure they are taken care of financially).

Yes, "saving the life of the mother" is a valid and legitimate argument. But again, rare. And even the most restrictive laws on the books allow for all three of these exceptions.

The flaws in the Abortion argument are so huge and gaping. And yet people get sucked into them every day. Lucky for them they didn't get sucked into a sink before they had a chance to voice that opinion.

You Don't Really Wanna Mess With Me Tonight

(Okay, so it's a song by Pink, who I am currently loathing, but that line is empowering).

I had SUCH a shitty day on Thursday. In addition to getting two more announcements about people being pregnant and having to fake joy for others (please people, STOP telling us), I had to have the post-D&C check-up appointment -- which was emotional for me and Dr. J for a whole host of obvious reasons. Then I had to inquire with the office manager at my doctor's office about what I can only refer to as "the insurance issue" having to do with the Explanation of Benefits (EOB) received in the mail from my insurance company. While it was comforting to learn that the doctor's office was appalled, and assured me that the hospital would NEVER permit such a classification on my EOB, and thus my beef was with the insurance company . . . I know I have a huge phucking fight with UPMC looming on the horizon. One for which I doubt I have the strength, let alone time, and yet I know MUST be done. I have never been one to pursue a path of least resistance, and always stand up for both myself and principles, yet as worn out emotionally, mentally, psychological, and physically as I am . . . I know that I will have to deal with this in a timely matter.

I have long been diagnosed with low blood pressure. Seriously. In fact, after the D & C at the hospital we were about to get in the elevator to leave when I began to black out because it was only 65/43, and I had to be rushed back into the surgical recovery room so anesthesiologist could give me something to "perk me up." It took an hour to get me up to 73/55. So, anyhoo, at the Ob/Gyn office on Thursday & after discussing "the insurance issue," they checked my blood pressure and it was up, WAY up. Gee, I wonder why?

Back to matters at hand.

Look out UPMC, "I am about to go to war." And UPMC, I assure you that you do NOT want to take me on. If I have to get every Pro-Life organization in the USA, the Pittsburgh Catholic Newspaper, and the Vatican (which I have learned has OVERSIGHT on the pending merger of Mercy Hospital into the UPMC system) . . . I will do just that. Because I don't give a shit if it's what the "medical billing code" UPMC went with, I will NOT allow the billing code of "Missed Abortion, Comp Surgical" to be on my insurance history.

I did NOT have an abortion. I would NOT have an abortion. Mercy Hospital does NOT perform abortions. My Ob/Gyn practice will NOT perform abortions.

It was a baby. She stopped growing. She died in my body. I had to have a D & C. Women often have D & C's even when they have NOT been pregnant. Does this mean THEY had an abortion? Hell no! Then why the phuck does it say it on mine?!

It's bad enough dealing with the INCREDIBLY STUPID AND INSENSITIVE BULLSHIT THINGS people have said to myself and Dr. J over the past couple of years. And trust me when I say it continual happens. NOW, we get the "insult to injury" from UPMC! WTF?!

The only thing that wound up saving me on Thursday night was my dear (and aforementioned) "Hamster." We've been good friends since 8th grade, ever since what she and I refer to as "The Gumby and Pokey Incident." But it's amazing how our friendship has deepened over the past few years. Even more amazing . . . she is due with her first baby in July. It hardly makes sense that the friend who it would seem it would be most difficult to talk with about how much pain and struggle I am going through, would actually be the friend who comforts me the most . . . who validates my feelings, who makes me feel not quite-so-insane, who assures me that INDEED, I am not being overly sensitive -- rather I am truly running into assholes and idiots every time I turn around!

I sometimes wonder what the heck she is getting out of useless me, but I think I caught a glimpse of it as we talked late into the night on Thursday, as my Hamster has been unable to sleep normally due to her growing body (she is teeny-tiny, and feels like she has swallowed a beach ball). As she we talked about how nervous sonograms make her (she's had to have more than the usual number, due to some medical issues she has), strategies for her to avoid the breast-feeding nazis, her anxiety about the scheduled Caesarean, how scared she is about the pain afterwards . . . I found myself easily and genuinely comforting her, supporting her, cheering her on, helping her brainstorm and role-play, assuring HER that she is NOT crazy, and that she is entitled to be scared, anxious, apprehensive, and so on.

And I meant every single word.

Here we were, supporting and comforting each other, despite our very different situations. Confessing our deepest fears, our head-shaking frustrations, our most secret pain -- the kind that only comes out late in the night, between two people who can truly connect.

Hamster is a mathematician. And we were talking about how some of the percentiles the doctors tell her at each sonogram make her nervous. I pointed out it's an occupational hazard for her, since she deals in numbers to make her living. Then I gave her, and me, an equation to ponder . . . . She is due in July. . . . We will be adopting a little girl who will be approximately 15-20 months old, when we get her in about 14-18 months from now. So our kids will be . . . about the same age . . . um, playdate, anyone?!

The mommies will be having champagne as we recline in our lawn chairs, we assure you.

Lost

This is the hardest thing I have ever had to write. I know that I don't have to write about it, but to not do so feels like I am not honoring what has happened. So here goes . . . .

I will remember how resigned we were. Then I remember how surprised we were less than24 hours later.

I will remember how we cried, and thanked God, and asked him to watch over us.

I will remember how excited Lori was, and how Jay took the credit. And how we credited Dozen cupcakes as being the secret ingredient.

I will remember how nervous we were about waiting for the numbers. And how euphoric we were at how good, how high, how positive they were, both times.

I will remember Sandi being speechless when I told her, how she cried tears of happpiness for us.

I will remember plotting to tell my Mom, and how she hugged me so tightly when when finally did.

I will remember feeling that maybe, just maybe, our luck had changed, and that this would finally be our year.

I remember thinking that Christmas would be so much more special, and not hurt this year, like it did last year.

I remember Kirsten's constant reassurance, and laughing about how "everything will be punctuated by a nervous swipe." I remember thinking it I was insane, but being glad I could share the experience with her, 3000 miles away.

I remember how good it felt to have the anger, the frustration, and the sadness finally begin to fade away, and maybe this time for good.

I remember realizing that it only takes one.

I remember the excitement and joy on the face of the guy I thought I'd wind up marrying, when I told him the news. How happy he was for me, and how happy I was for him, and how much I liked meeting his wife. And how happy I was to be married to my husband instead.

Then I remember trying to quell my fears about the ultrasound. And I remember trying to shrug off those nerves, and trying to draw upon my long-advocated advice of "just fake confidence" when I climbed up on that table.

Then I only sorta remember getting the bad news that she was too tiny. And I barely remember my husband helping me to the car, whimpering "this can't be happening again" along the way. But I remember waiting, the whole car ride home, to wake up from this nightmare.

And I remember our doctor trying to be supportive, but getting us prepared mentally, at the same time. And my husband taking these phone calls because I just couldn't.

And I remember trying to be positive, through the fear. And going to work the next day, in order to keep myself busy.

And I remember how scared I was, when the cramping started. And how I knew. I knew. I knew. I didn't want to know. But I knew.

I remember the doctor's office immediately springing into action, taking me seriously, putting a doctor on right away, helping me to come up with a plan, should the worst happen.

And I sorta remember driving to the office to do more bloodwork, and telling myself I had to keep the tears out of my eyes, so I didn't crash and kill us both, just in case there still was a chance.

I remember us going home, and how the cramping got worse. And how when we looked at each other, I saw the tears in my husband's eyes.

And I remember him kissing my tummy, as we tried to say goodbye to her, but knowing it might be the last moment we were a family, together. And I know I will always rememebr it as the most beautiful, and most tragic, moment of my life. Ever.

I remember the three of us laying in bed, holding on to each other, caressing her through my body, whispering to her, and to each other, as the sun went down.

I remember all of the endless praying, reminiscent of last time this happened, in which I made all sorts of deals with God, if he would just spare her, if he would just come through for us, for her. I remember our wonderful priest telling me it wasn't my fault, that I didn't cause it through any action or inaction, and that sometimes God steps in when they are too sick or too tiny to make it on their own.

I remember the test results the following morning, confirming the worst. I don't remember all that much from that day, just that the physical pain got worse, wracking my body. I know that I took one of my husband's leftover percocets to get through the night. I remember wanting the pain to subside, but yet knowing that when it would be over, she would be gone from me, forever.

I remember my father, never prone to emotion, jumping up to embrace me when I walked into the room, and holding me as these awful sobs escaped from my mouth. And how he stroked me head.

I remember that the people at the hospital were so kind, so sympathetic, so supportive. The OB's from our practice, the nurses, the anesthesiologist, all were so amazing. How we were glad to hear that they would be able to do some tests on her, and maybe, just maybe, give us some answers as the the painful "Why, again?" that hangs out there. I remember how the process seemed almost cathartic, and brought me some peace.

I remember thinking that I can't go on, and that I don't want to. I remember telling my husband this, and how it scares him to hear those words from me, but knowing I would have to go on, for him. Just as he needs to go on, for me.

I remember being shocked, even distrubed, by the sounds the I make when I start to sob, and thinking that they must be unique to grief so deep.

I remember being cognizant, repeatedly, just how strong my husband is, and how that would surprise most people. And how I hate that he is my soft landing from the highest of falls, but am constantly aware of how much I need him to be that for me. He helps me to remember that she is not in pain, that she is with God, and that she is happy.

I remember it all. I am not trying to forget. I couldn't. I won't. It's just so gutwrenchingly hard to remember it all at once. And I just wish it wouldn't hurt, forever.