Abigail's birthday is getting closer. I feel myself getting anxious.
We're planning to spread her ashes on her birthday. I just know it's going to be a big mix of emotions.
It will be so unsettling to hold that little bit of her, to revisit the intensity from a year ago. Not that I don't revisit our experience often, but this will be different.
I can't believe it's almost been a year. I can't believe it's really over, that we met Abby and she left us.
I still ache for the chance to meet her again, to hold her, kiss her and stare at her. I still ache for the hope of another child. Not a hope for another child, but the hope we had at the start of our pregnancy with Abigail.
I can so clearly remember the day I realized we were probably pregnant. And the moment we knew. I "knew" she was a girl. I had never felt a belief like that with my previous pregnancies. I'm not sure what made me believe there was a baby girl growing in me, maybe it was just an unacknowledged desire.
And the moment we found out the baby really was a little girl. Our little moment of joy after learning that the baby had Trisomy 18. It exhausts me just remembering back to the intensity of those days.
I can't believe the journey we've had. What I wouldn't do to go back. To experience life when I thought I would have four babies in my house. To go back and just feel Abigail moving around in me. The hope, the fear, the everything about it. I think the anxiety of being around people, being in public, was the worst part. Clearly not the *worst*, but really it kind of was.
A year ago I wanted time to go as slow as possible. I wanted my little girl to stay safe in my belly.
Some things have stayed the same. I'm still begging for time to go slowly. So I can embrace each of my kids, so I can try to connect with each of them daily, so I can not acknowledge that it's been a year since I've held my littlest baby girl.