Two Years Tomorrow

In about an hour, it will have been two years since I saw my daughter alive for the last time. I put her to bed and a little while later, she asked for some water. She was so calm, so peaceful, not running around, playing in her room or making noise as she usually did. At about 4 AM, I heard her voice. I wasn't sure whether she had just woken up (and my husband was on his way to her) or whether he'd already been there and she was chattering herself to sleep. It was 6 weeks after my c-section, 6 weeks of waking up with a new baby. The next time I saw her, I knew her beautiful little soul had left us.

I can't remember what I was doing last year on May 20. I know that on May 21, I woke up, exercised, and worked. In the evening, some friends of ours came over and kept us company as the day ran out. Tonight I'm here with just my daughter for a few hours, until my husband comes home. I can't help thinking about everything that started on that night two years ago. One life ended. In two months, I will meet the new person growing in my belly. I left the house I thought I'd spend a few more years in. I suddenly became a mommy of one again (to all those who see me), though in my mind and heart I am always a mommy of two.

Most of the time, I don't think about her death. I consciously avoid that part of my mind and heart. I do remember the funny, cute, exciting, and other things she did. I suppose after two years I've managed to separate the two somehow.

Will May always be such a hard month? Mother's Day is always in May. My husband made me chocolate waffles this year, a rare treat. The following weekend, he took me out for what turned out to be a surprise birthday party at a restaurant with all of my friends. I had no idea that he'd planned it, and it's so unlike him to plan anything. Everyone was there, and it completely lifted my mood. When I asked him why he did it, he immediately said that it was because he knew it'd be a tough year.

Last year, I dragged myself, chin up, through absolutely everything because I knew if I let my head hang for even a minute I might not be able to pick it up again. Next year, things might be a bit easier. My husband will be out of school and hopefully working, I'll be busy taking care of a ten-month old, and another year will have passed.

This year, today, I am 38 years old, almost 32 weeks pregnant, and it's been two years since I saw my firstborn. I miss her. I'm angry. I don't think that will ever change.