Today marks one year since we miscarried LO; and, in typical middle-child fashion, is a day both Nick and I almost missed despite the reminder in our shared Google calendar. We almost missed it at least in part because we live with a newborn and miss a lot of things right now. While we firmly believe a loss is a loss, and we were deeply impacted by losing LO, he is also overshadowed by the trauma of his big sister’s stillbirth. That said, this is very much a day we both want to mark, remembering another baby who didn’t get to come home with us.
It’s time. We haven’t been purposely keeping a secret, instead searching for the best way to share. Or maybe something creative. Or cute. Or crafty. Until I remembered I’m not so creative with these things. It took us six months to come up with a solid social media announcement for Rayna, and we never got to that point with LO.
Pregnancy is marked in weeks. Bump pics are taken weekly. Pregnancy websites send weekly updates about what your baby is up to in the womb. Milestones of fetal development are marked in weeks. It seems like life with a new baby is also marked in weeks. First week at home. First four weeks. The precious 12 (or so) weeks a mom is home with the baby. I’ve found time after loss to be measured in weeks, too.
Hope but not expect is a favorite saying of Nick’s. It drove me nuts when we were first dating. My hopes were almost always met in our early months together, but on the occasion they weren’t Nick would say, Hope but not expect. I’m still not sure I can explain what he means, though I have internalized the general idea of differentiating my hopes and my expectations.