So yesterday really happened, didn't it?

I awoke a few times during the night last night, shifted around, and reminded myself of what happened. And surprisingly, I actually made it to close to 6 a.m. before I just started bawling.

Yesterday really happened. This is what it feels like when you're told that your baby absolutely is going to die after you've carried it for five months. This is what it feels like to know you have to deliver a dead (or dying) baby. This is grief.

Huh. Never really been there before.

To tell you the honest truth, I lead a pretty charmed life. My family's in reasonable health and I haven't lost anyone really close to me before. I guess I just never thought it would be my child. How's that for irony? Wait. Is that actually "irony?" *sigh* I can't think.

You know it's funny. When I saw my sisters yesterday, I think they were both hoping that when they heard the full story that they'd see a glimmer or hope or that I'd just been a drama queen when I talked to them earlier on the phone. And believe me, I wish I was too. But that's it. It's the end of the road. What the fuck?!?!

I'm terrified of delivering this baby and what's to follow. Right now it's a death sentence, but no one is dead. In fact, I can still feel this little person wiggling around in my belly as if it's a little Who down in Whoville saying, "We are here! We are here! We are here!"

But it isn't really there. Not to stay.

I understand it's a numbers game. I understand that I pulled the unlucky number. And it had to be 1/6000 pregnancies that this happens to, it happened to me and my DH who can handle it. We will grieve, but it will get better.

It's funny that what started out as my original blog title has become more true than ever. The story behind it is sorta long, but I'll share it anyway.

My dad is an odd sort of bird who always says these philosophical things to people who never get it. We have this video of Christmas 1989 where me and all of my little cousins are tearing through our gifts and after they're all passed out my little cousin (who is about 6 at the time) asks my dad, "What's left?" To which my dad replies simply, "What's left? What's left you ask? There's life!"

When we saw this on video many years later we laughed so hard. Here's my dad trying to explain the end of the presents in a philosophical way to a child. Hilarious. Soooo dad.

So what's left you ask?

There's life, my dears. And yes, it will continue.

xoxo,
MSC