Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of the due date of my third pregnancy. My baby would be turning one. My good friend was so excited when my doctor told me the date because it is also her son’s birthday. This is the baby that I carried at my wedding. This is the one my doctor was so sure of. My hCH levels were so high she originally speculated that it was twins. This was the third time I was pregnant. It was the second heartbeat that I got to hear. We got to keep a print out of the ultrasound. I cried for joy. I was so sure that three times would be a charm. This was also the LAST time I was pregnant. Since this third loss I haven’t even been able to conceive – not with monitoring, medication, IUI or IVF.
Due dates have been hard on me. This time it isn’t AS bad. Maybe I’m finally starting to get numb to it. I’ll never be able to get those dates out of my head. March 14, June 26, January 18. These days will always represent what was lost and what could have been. All I can hope for is that every year it hurts a little less.