The simplest terms, most convenient definitions

I know it's been awhile. I'm sorry--I've been busy (with all good things, though!) and blog-neglectful.

I've started to mentally write this post a handful of times, but most often I just find myself thinking the subject line to myself--a line from one of my favorite movies.

You see us as you want to see us--in the simplest terms, the most convenient definintions.

It's funny--now that my pregnancy is pretty obvious, I've been getting a lot more comments and questions from strangers. Luckily, they've all been kind and well-meaning, so I'm not going to rant about people saying I look huge or unsolicited advice... But so often I find myself completely lying to them in response.

They ask if this is my first baby and I smile and nod while they gush about how excited we must be (and we are!). I listen to them tell me what it's like to hold your baby for the first time and the overwhelming feelings of love that you have like I don't know. I listen to their birth stories like I've never had a contraction or ever pulled my own legs back and push. I listen to my classmate in our Bradley birthing class express her fears of how she heard that an epidural can lower your blood pressure if you have existing low blood pressure--and I sit there, unable to tell her that with my epidural I sent alarms off all night and if they would have been concerned for the safety of my child at all, they would have totally carted me off to the operating room. But instead I say nothing, my heart and head burning with my lie of omission.

It's just easier than explaining what we've been through--and I know that it's the simple answer that people want to hear. And in a way, I want them to keep believing to the best of their ability that babies don't die. I wish I wasn't the girl whose baby died. I don't want their fears or their pity because neither of these things will make my heart hurt less or change what happened.

The simplest terms, most convenient definitions.

We are excited, we are grateful, and we love this little girl growing inside me to bits and pieces... But our hearts are still broken for our little girl who didn't make it.

We're creeping up on a year here, which is almost surreal to think about. But every time I see August 26th or 29th on something--the expiration date on a gallon of milk, my husband's oil change reminder, etc. I feel a sick to my stomach. August 26th, the day everything went to shit/August 29th, the day we said goodbye...

I've carved out that weekend as my own quiet time--we have no plans and no expectations, so we'll just play it by ear. The good news is that it will be better than the same day last year... but honestly, it won't take much to improve upon that.

So that's where I'm at right now, amidst all of the fabulous, generous showers and happiness. A (supposedly) glowing pregnant lady with a sad little secret...