It's odd carrying around two due dates in your head. One filled with sadness. One filled with hope.
The baby we lost in April was due today, September 2nd.
Due to particularly bad planning on my part, I'm also almost 16 weeks in this pregnancy, which is when the baby passed away.
In other words, I'm an emotional wreck.
Two due dates. Two pregnancies. Two babies. As hard as I try to keep them separate in my mind, I'm constantly comparing the two. Trying to find differences big and small between the two pregnancies to assure myself that this pregnancy will be different. I'm forever tallying symptoms and side effects in my mind trying to reach the conclusion that this baby will arrive safely in February.
But no symptom is going to erase one simple reality.
My baby died and I am still very very sad about that and I am terrified that something will happen to the baby I am currently carrying.
I know each pregnancy is as different as each child. I know that the chances of something going wrong again are slim. I know all these in my head.
But my heart is another story. In my heart I loved the baby I lost and I am still mourning. I still want to know why my baby died. I still relive that awful moment when the nurse told me my baby didn't have a heartbeat.
And in my heart I am falling deeper and deeper in love with the little one currently inside of me. My heart still so raw from before is being asked to expand again, to be vulnerable again, to love again.
It's. So. Hard.
I knew it would be hard but I had no idea how hard.