Four years ago right now I was a happy, if a bit battle-worn, whole, young pregnant mother expecting to give birth to her first child in about three weeks. At 10:27 p.m. central time it will be four years since that changed.
So many people ask me, "how can you still be so upset about something that happened so long ago? It can't be that bad!" I'll admit that now, anyway, it's not "that bad"-not for most of the year. It's just this day. I ask myself that question a lot too,though. How can I, the woman who held her teenage sister's hand as a doctor told her that her baby boy had died just two weeks before he was due, I, the woman who watched that young body give birth to a lifeless body, I, a woman who knows, personally, that birth can so often only mean death, how can I be upset when I have such a bright, beautiful four-year-old, living, blessing in my life?
Though a scar will never be the same as the ache of a missing baby, I think my sister said it perfectly recently when she said, "it's not okay. it's never going to be okay because he's never coming back." This scar will never go away. Where there is a physical scar there always remains an emotional one.
I think it's worse for me this year because it's the first time I've been pregnant on the c-section anniversary. What is comforting today,though, is that when I look down my scar is eclipsed by my growing breasts and belly. For the next 5-6 months, at least, my scar will be invisible to me.
Still, a thought I can't get out of my head: I'm carrying a baby in a damaged uterus. My first baby had a whole home. My other two had to settle for second-best. They deserve so much better than that and it's something I'll never be able to give them.