February 3 : Her first "angel-versary"

"Angel-versary"... "Anniversary".. "Date of Death".. The list goes on and on, but there really isn't a nice way to say "This is the day my baby died". I have struggled with what to write here for some time (the last month at least), and I think I'll just let my rambling thoughts take over.

A year ago today, we thought we were just going for a "routine" ultrasound to check the fluid levels. After that, we went to prenatal, where they told us that everything on the ultrasound looked fine, and I would see my specialist the next day. The doctor decided to to a prenatal checkup, and her heart beat was gone...three hours after seeing her alive on an ultrasound. Since then, I have come to find out, that the radiologist's report of that ultrasound noted that there was fluid around the bowels. I guess, what I am struggling with, is why didn't they tell me? What did the report that the doctor was holding in his hand say? Did he lie to me? Or worse! This is a terrible thought that I have carried with me since I found out about the ultrasound report last March; Could they see that something was going horribly wrong? And did they know that because of the lack of a NICU at that hospital, and the time it would take to get to one (an hour), that my daughter would likely die, and did they just let it happen?? I have thought writing a letter to the radiologist, the ultrasound technician, and the doctor who discovered that she was gone, and ask them for an explanation. But, I know that they would likely lie to me anyway, so they don't "upset" me in my current "fragile" state.

So, as I sit here, obsessively kick counting bump's every movement (thanks to the recent ultrasound findings of low amniotic fluid), I still can't believe a year has passed since she died. In many ways, it feels like a lifetime ago. But, in other ways, it feels just like yesterday. I am procrastinating on getting the nursery ready for "Bump". As I look around that room, So much of Kheri remains. She is still, physically, in that room. I moved her ashes (concealed inside a plush teddy bear), from the crib, to the hammock with the other toys. Then I moved it 24 hours later to the little rocking chair that is a family heirloom. It didn't seem right to just push her up there with the other toys...not yet anyway. She'll probably remain in that chair for a while, as I can't imagine where else to put her. I put her memory box in the closet, because I couldn't think of another place for it where it wouldn't get covered (and ruined) by dust. Slowly, pieces of her are being moved aside to make room for her little sister. I really have a fair amount of work to do in there before "bump" arrives, and yet I continue to put it off. Bump's movements have changed in the last few days...increasing my paranoia, and certainly not making these days any easier.

We don't have anything planned yet for her "birthday", which is Sunday. I'm not sure what I want to do, what I should do, or even what I need to do on that day. We have been invited to a couple of Superbowl parties, and I have declined the invitation to one. It is too bloody cold outside to do anything there, and everything is covered by nearly a foot of snow anyway. We'll see what the day brings. I can easily see nothing happening, and I think I'd be OK with that.

A year ago today, our lives changed forever. I know that next year we will still feel the same, and even 20 years from now we will reflect on her short little life. A year ago, we discovered that she was gone, and that night I didn't sleep at all. I wrote a post in the wee hours of the morning, and I mentioned a song. That song has been playing in my head the last few days, and certainly seems appropriate. I know that every year, I will wonder, who she'd be today...





Sunny days seem to hurt the most,
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
I feel you everywhere I go.
I see your smile, I see your face
I hear you laughing in the rain.
Still can't believe you're gone.

It ain't fair you died too young.
Like a story that had just begun,
But death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you,
All the hell that I've been through,
Just knowing no one could take your place.
Sometimes I wonder, who you'd be today.

Would you see the world?
Would you chase your dreams?
Settle down with a family?
I wonder, what would you name your babies?
Some days the sky's so blue,
I feel like I can talk to you
And I know it might sound crazy

Sunny days seem to hurt the most.
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
The only thing that gives me hope..
Is I know, I'll see you again someday.