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April 8, 2005
The thing about loss is you never forget. A while back, a blog I read, Chez Miscarriage, talked about how a woman will always be able to tell you everything about a miscarriage - when it happened, where she was, what she was wearing.
Three years ago today I gave birth to my Aaron after finding out that he had died at 18 weeks. It was right about at this time exactly, actually, that I gave birth to him.
I still remember EVERY detail about April 7th and 8th, down to the lavendar maternity shirt, maternity jeans, and gray socks I was wearing when I went to the ER and later to the hospital to deliver him. I remember watching TV in the hospital room late at night as Jeff Corwin was on the Animal Channel (still can't hear about Black Mambas without remembering that night); looking over when I was supposed to be asleep to see Chris looking through the material we'd been given and sobbing; the discharge nurse who annoyed me because she was so patronizing (who, incidentally, was also my nurse after both subsequent births); the ride home and following days where I just cried and cried, and wondered how I would ever be able to live a normal life again.
Three years and two children later, I remember.
Aaron, I haven't forgotten you. I've thought about you so much over the past three years. After your brother and sister were born, I realized just how much like them you looked. I also realize that if I hadn't lost you I would not have had your sister, but in a perfect world I would have loved to have all three of you here with me.
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