Thursday, November 15, 2012

Due date #1

I didn't have the heart to keep with my regular titling scheme today. Because this isn't a day about where I am in my cycle or what is going on with me, it's about our first little one. The one that should have arrived today.

My first pregnancy is difficult for me to explain. I was just shy of 6 weeks when it ended. And because pee-sticks are the devils spawn (and like to throw false negatives at me even at 14dpo) I didn't know that I was pregnant until a full two weeks later. Which meant that I was only aware that I was pregnant for four days before my beta started dropping. But it was four days that I knew, for the first time in my entire life, that was pregnant.

I'm not as bonded to this first one like I am with the other two. It's difficult for me to say that because my first  pregnancy is still very significant to me. There were no ultrasounds to monitor growth, no sounds of a heartbeat thumping away, and there were very little, if any, dreams of the future. The only thing I did allow myself to do was look up the due date. Which of course, is today. It stung when it ended but I didn't cry or grieve- I was just quietly sad.

But with that sadness there was also new hope. It gave me reason to believe that I wasn't totally broken and that maybe, just maybe, Mike and I could actually conceive. Up to that point, we hadn't known if I could even get pregnant. My unexplained infertility diagnosis stuck, but it allowed us to look to the future a bit more optimistically. In a twisted sense, it was movement forward.

I will forever be grateful to my first for giving me a renewed sense of hope. It was something that I needed very badly at that time.

One of the challenges with today is that I shoulder this memory all by myself. I find it hard to not play the what-if game. Because if that baby had survived, everyone would be gathered around me with support and love. Everyone would be rejoicing in this new life. But instead, no one remembers. No one except me. This is one of the many difficult aspects of miscarriage; it is forgotten. Though maybe this is part of our role as mothers- to never forget.

So today I remember my first, my little unknown soldier, and the gifts that it gave to me.


  1. Such a hard day to mark. So glad you can be thankful for this life amidst the hurt. Hugs to you.

  2. My first was like that. Short, not exactly sweet, but no less remembered than the subsequent ones. Remembered by me anyway, as you say - nobody else really ever understood why I hated September so much for so many years. I made a point to not even look up due dates after that, but I often wish I had. I am remembering with you.

  3. Sending love. Wishing you peace.

  4. It's a terrible date to have to live through, and I so much wish you didn't. I understand what you mean, too, about feeling like you are shouldering it alone. I felt that way - not even my husband said anything to me on our missed due date (although he later said he had been thinking of it and explained why he'd kept quiet). I admire your positivity in remembering the gifts of this first pregnancy and hope you keep that feeling close.

    1. I should have said, I felt alone "in real life" ... but surrounded by love and kind thoughts and optimism for the future here in the blogiverse. I hope the messages you have received here bring you the same, both comfort and company - you are not, in fact, alone. We are here, and we remember with you.

  5. I'm sorry that you feel so alone in your memory of your first loss. (Hugs)

  6. Remembering your lost little one with you today, friend. You are not alone. My love and hugs to you. XO

  7. Thinking of you and your lost little one today. Wishing you strength as you go through the day (and beyond). Xoxo

  8. Remembering with you and sending hugs.