Sequence of Events

Yesterday, the 23rd, was three months since Amelia was alive. Today, the 24th, is three months since she died. Tomorrow, the 25th, will be three months since she was born.

I am struggling with acceptance of the sequence of these events. How can my child be dead before she is born? How can I bury my newborn?

Nothing makes sense anymore, life and everything in it is up for an evaluation, a scrutinizing one. What mattered before, has no meaning, what had no meaning before is now the way of life.


What remains a constant is missing my girl.

Hate this day.

I really really hate number 24. Sorry if it's your lucky number, but it's the worst one for me.

Exactly two months ago, on March 24, just before 11am, my world came crushing down. The ceiling was spinning, the ground turned into a black hole. I was lying on a hospital bed, looking into the eyes of a woman I've never met before, begging to wake up. Dan was beside me, crumbling, crying... Our midwifes suddenly appeared in the doorway, their faces pale and full of sorrow. That was when "I'm sorry, there is no heartbeat" became so very real. That was when my hopes and dreams died.

For the last two months this memory haunted me day and night. Every night, my dreams start with that spinning ceiling. I feel that hospital bed beneath me when I see moms and their babies on the streets, hear children play in the park outside our windows...

Tomorrow, I am going to be happy. After all, Amelia will be two month old. I wonder how is she, where is she. I still worry about her all the time, hope that she is safe, that she feels our love.

Hope. Hope is what I lost, and hope is all I have.