The day
before Claire’s birthday is always the most difficult for me. It is the
day that we found out, without a doubt, that our baby was gone.
And so the long, sad, lonely,
absolutely devastating day begins... again... because here I am 2 years
later recounting the events minute by minute. My eyes are on the clock
all day long.
This is when we were in the ultrasound.
This is when we went home to gather
some things, and tell my family, and make arrangements for our children
for the next couple of days.
This is when I got induced for the first time.
This is when we waited.
This is when we waited.
This is when we waited.
This is when we went for a walk to the grocery store, just to get some fresh air and to buy some snacks that we never did eat.
This is when I got a second round of medication to induce labor.
This is when the wait continued.
And continued.
This is when we watched tv... and laughed... and then felt guilty for laughing.
This is when a dear friend came to visit because she was leaving the next day.
This is when we turned off the tv and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
This is when the contractions began and reality really set in. And so did the shakes. And the tears, the uncontrollable sobs.
And then the clock struck midnight...
