Approaching a Year

September has arrived.  As I stare at my huge (and I mean HUGE) belly, I can't help but have flash backs to last year at this time.  On this exact date one year ago, I was 7 days away from my due date with Molly.  I was calm, confident, excited...it never crossed my mind that I wouldn't be coming home with a baby.  But then the impossible happened, and my world changed forever.  I've been thinking a lot about how we will mark Molly's Day on September 9th.  We have some plans to get us through.  We know it will not be an easy day.  In so many ways, I just want to get through it and have it be behind us.  But I also want to honor her.  Molly's life and death have changed me - I believe for the better, and she deserves to be recognized for that.  And to be truthful, September 9th was not actually a horrible day.  Despite the blanket of sadness, we got to hold our first daughter and finally see her beautiful face. 

I've been so focused on planning for September 9th, the day we call Molly Day, that I forgot about September 8th and 10th.  September 8th and 10th, 2012 were by far the two worst days of my life.   September 8th brought the news that Molly's heart had stopped beating.  That silent ultrasound and the look on the doctor's face as she said, "I'm sorry..." were two of the most awful, unthinkable, surreal things I have ever experienced.  September 10th was the day we had to lay Molly's body down for the last time and leave the hospital without her.  By far, that was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I honestly have no idea how I ever put her down or put one foot in front of the other to walk away.  That is a moment I never let myself think about.  Ever.  Her labor and delivery often cross my mind, especially as we prepare to head back to the hospital in a few weeks and deliver our second daughter.  It doesn't hurt to think about Molly's delivery.  But September 10th...absolute Hell.  And I never let my mind go there.

As we approach these three days of anniversaries, I've been reflecting a lot on the entire last year.  I've realized that September 9th is not just about Molly.  Its about my whole family growing and learning and loving and grieving and surviving.  Surviving.  In the days and weeks immediately following Molly's death, I had no idea how I was going to keep going.  I didn't know how my world would ever feel "normal" again.  I didn't know how I would ever start to do regular, simple things again.  But slowly, so slowly I didn't even realize it was happening, I started to feel ok in public again.  I started crying less each day.  I started going to scary places like the grocery store again.  I started feeling less hateful when pregnant women or families with two children crossed my path.  I just started living again.  Living my new normal.  Living the life I didn't think I'd ever have.  Some days better than others, but still living it.  And now here we are, almost an entire year later.  We have endured a horrible, unthinkable loss, and we have somehow survived for an entire year without Molly.

I've had waves of guilt recently because now that almost a year has passed, it is sometimes hard for me to imagine what our life would be like if she was here.  I, very likely, would not currently be pregnant.  And, yeah, that's a mess in my head.  One daughter or the other.  I wouldn't have both.  But I want both.  I will always want both.  I do know that if Molly was here, not only would this baby not be growing inside of me, but I would be a different person.  A less grateful Mom.  A more judgmental human being.  A woman completely oblivious to the struggles of bereaved parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and grandparents everywhere.  A less friendly neighbor.  So although I obviously want Molly here, I am also grateful for how she has changed me.  I'm better because of her.

I have a small request.  If you are able, please light a candle for Molly on Monday, September 9th.  If you do, I'd love to see photos.  I've said again and again that my biggest fear is that Molly will be forgotten, and if you could remember her with us next week, we would be honored.  Thank you to all of you, as always, for reading our story, supporting us, and keeping Molly alive in your hearts.

Every breath you took was through me.  
You are gone, and yet, I still breathe for you everyday.
~Lorinda Morley