I know I'm posting a lot this week, but apparently I have a lot on my mind.
I wasn't sure how the 39 week mark would affect me. I knew it would be hard, but I can't decide if it has been harder or easier than I imagined. It honestly blows my mind that it has been nine months since we lost Carter. The pregnancy went extremely fast, and the time after has done the same. Almost too fast for my liking sometimes. Some days I wish I could just slow everything down and take more time to grieve, especially since losing little bean. I wish I could go and spend more time at the cemetery. I wish I could do everything in the comfort of the nursery every day. But what I wish most is that I was mothering a live child. That, rather than sitting at the cemetery, we could be sitting at a park. Rather than taking time to grieve, we could be taking time to snuggle. Rather than sitting in the nursery, I'd be chasing a crawling baby all over the house. There are so many things I wish could be different.
The 26th of each month is generally always harder than the 27th, and this month is no exception. I had a follow up with my doctor on Wednesday at 4:00, the same day, date, and time of our appointment the day we found out we lost Carter. It sucked. I almost wanted to cancel, just because I knew that going to his office that day would make things hurt so much worse. We had a wedding to go to on the 27th, and it kind of sucked having to put on a face and talk to people.
As I'm writing this, I'm thinking about the days following the 27th. I remember little things, but not necessarily when they happened. We went home Thursday night, and were treated to french toast in bed, and gifts from our parents. My friends came over sometime that weekend and all we could do was hug each other and cry. My mom brought home Costco hot dogs for lunch one day. I left a giant wet spot on the couch from icing myself and not realizing that the ice had melted through my sweatpants. I cried in the shower each day. I woke Brandon up many times a night to help me go to the bathroom. My milk came in as a solid reminder that there was no baby to feed. We went for a walk to the mailbox one day because that was all I could handle. Flowers and cards poured in. The thing I remember most is going for a drive after my parents left, and feeling like the car and the house were all too empty. We still feel that every day.
For whatever reason, every time I'm prepping the house for my parents or Brandon's parents to come down, I cry. Even though both sets of parents have been to our house multiple times since October, it always feels like that was the last time. Maybe I feel guilty, or maybe thinking back to that weekend just makes me so sad, but either way, it happens every time.
I miss being 39 weeks pregnant. I miss the discomfort and the heartburn and the lack of sleep and the belly and the tiny kicks inside me. I miss craving pizza rolls and Carter's hiccups and feeling him dancing to my favorite songs. I miss the glow and the happiness Brandon and I both had as we closed in on the due date. I miss being naive and patient. I miss our son. I miss him more than I've ever wanted or missed anything in my entire life. I miss him as much as I love him. Endless amounts. So much that it hurts literally all the time.
I would give so many things to have him back. I would give my own life if Carter could come back and live with Brandon. But this is our life now. We have to take what we can get, and muddle through the 26th and 27th of every single month. I will never be 38 or 39 weeks pregnant ever again; those two weeks are something that I will have shared with only Carter. I would give anything to be 39 weeks pregnant again. Or maybe 38 weeks. I just want to go back to a time when our son was alive.