Goodbye, Baby Seidler

I wanted to write this yesterday.  I had every intention of doing it.  I don't know if I didn't have time or just didn't have the heart, but either way, it obviously didn't happen.

Yesterday marked 1 year since we lost our sweet growing babe.  Today is one year and one day.  Tomorrow will be one year and two days.  And so on.

That's how it goes really.  Just taking every day one at a time.  Most days are fine.  Good, really.  Some days are hard.  And every one in a blue moon, I have days where I just don't know how to get through it.

When you have a miscarriage, nobody tells you that a year and one day after, you'll still feel those raw emotions like you did when you found out your baby was gone.  Nobody tells you you'll have you take it day by day, and maybe someday, it won't hurt so much anymore.  Nobody tells you that life continues, and people move on, and meanwhile, you sit here counting the days, the months, that have passed by.  These are the things nobody tells you.

I can still remember exactly what it felt like to be sitting in the ER, laughing and talking with S like my whole world wasn't about to change.  I remember exactly what it felt like the moment the nurse, ever so casually, said, "Your uterus is empty."  I remember the shock, the anger, and the overwhelming sadness that went through me in that single second.  I remember it all.

Leaving the hospital, completely numb, I wanted nothing more than to have it be a joke.  A bad dream I would wake up from only to realize my baby was still there.  But it wasn't.  It was gone.

I would never hear it's heartbeat.
I would never see it's tiny eyes looking up at me.
I would never see it's first smile, even if it would just be from gas.
I would never get to watch it learn to play and go to school and make friends and get married and have its own kids or any of the things that normal kids get to do.

I miss that baby every day.  Or I at least miss what it would have been.

But today is a new day.  It is day 365 + 1.  Tomorrow will be 365 + 2.  And so on.  And that's how I will continue on with life.  Taking each day one at a time, until the days run together, until the months turn into years, until the pain of that day is just a dull presence somewhere in the back of my mind.

Goodbye, Baby Seidler.  I miss you more than you know.