It's That Time of Year

Where were you 13 years ago?  I was in a similar circumstance.  I was 39 weeks pregnant and about 4 hours into labor with the baby who would be known as the world's most beautiful girl.  You may scoff at that.  If so, it's because you never saw her.

I never dreamed I'd be pregnant at this age when I was giving birth to Olivia.  I never dreamed what the next 8 years after that night would bring either.  I dreamed of everything every young pregnant woman does.  I dreamed of snuggles, kisses, diapers, preschool, kindergarten, bikes and dolls.  I never dreamed I was entering a world of hospitals, doctors, and death.

I remember that night vividly.  It isn't only the pain I remember.  I also remember the tears that exploded from my eyes when I saw her for the first time.  I remember the feeling that my heart, the literal center of my chest, would explode at the love I felt at that moment.  

I can't remember Olivia's birthday without remembering her angelversary.  They come only five days apart.  That seems such a cruel twist of fate.  I don't know if the pregnancy hormones make it worse this year or if it would be the same regardless.  I have been sad for several days.  I have had a shorter temper.  I have had horrific nightmares and sleepless nights.  Will it change after Sunday?  The grief never goes away, but its sharpness dulls over time.  At these special dates, the edge of grief's sword is dangerously sharp.

On the way home from work tonight, I heard one of our two songs.  I Knew I Loved You doesn't really play on radio stations anymore, but I'd like to think it was a gift to me.

The tears began to flow as soon as I heard the first notes.  I fear the next 24 hours or five days may be the same.  I'm a few hours early, but, I didn't want to count on waking up at 4:58 am to publish this.  Happy birthday in heaven, my angel.  There is nothing I wouldn't give to kiss your sweet face again.