- When my due date would be
- Exactly how many days I was pregnant
- When I'd have my first ultrasound with a (likely) heartbeat
- How old he would potentially be come Andrew's 2nd birthday
The answer to the last one was 9 months. With this boy.
It seemed like ages away. And yet, here we are. My heart wanted desperately to assume that when Andrew's second birthday came around, I'd have a super mature and old boy that would be close in age so I would mend a fraction of my heart that longed for a boy of that age. But who am I kidding. Calculating the 4 months it took to get pregnant after Andrew and then the miscarriage and then gestating Benjamin until he was barely ripe, it still wouldn't make them close. Even if I birthed Benjamin the day after Andrew was born wouldn't make up for the emptiness my heart will always feel. All I wanted when I sat on that hospital bed as the nurses told me the news that shattered my life was to be pregnant again and press full speed ahead.
What I really wanted was a do-over. With Andrew, of course. I wanted to rewind a few days to have some epiphany or realization that I needed to be induced and monitored before something fatal happened. Yet, I had no idea and that perfect little story we were writing about being happily married and traveling the world and buying a house and having our first baby and being overall perfect? Who knew we were writing a tragedy.
We have Andrew's brother to be thankful for and that should go without saying. We're thankful for him and frankly, we need him. My heart cannot handle the thought of the title of this post reading "9 Days" without more to the story. And yet, some of my fellow loss mothers still long for the siblings they wish they were mothering by now. At the very least.
But these next 9 days? Those are Andrew's. Birthday dinner will be had and special dessert will be eaten, all to remember the life of a boy that forever changed ours. The weather at this time of year feels like it's drowning me. The winter air and first snows all remind me of what those fateful end-of-days looked like just two years ago. Seven-hundred some days is a whole lot of days.