Another Due Date Anniversary
Today, I could have been planning a fourth birthday party had I not miscarried the second time. I had loved this baby so much. I had a sinking suspicion I would miscarry from the beginning, as many of us do when we have miscarried before, so I tried to be as alive as possible with him for as long as possible. We went flying, even though it made me a little sick. We celebrated anniversaries and went to weddings and "played" with his cousin. I took weekly pregnancy pictures even though I would never post them because of infertility trauma, but they would be joyful memories just for me, Aaron, and our baby boy if he lived. He didn't. But I believed love, especially that kind of fierce, buoyant love I had for him in the face of my fear, was not wasted.
After my third loss at the end of April in 2018, I sometimes found myself believing that love was wasted after all. The senselessness of all of my loss seemed insurmountable at that time. And still, even with a living child, I struggle with due date anniversaries, especially as we have had more failed fertility treatments trying for more children. I listen to the advice of friends with three year olds and remember that I could have known this stuff already. I see a four-year-old playing at the playground and feel robbed of all the years I could not watch my four-year-old play. The feeling of love wasted is a lie because love continues connecting us to one another, even beyond the grave, but the feeling of love wasted also points to the persistence of loss. My friend Rev. Tiffany Patterson lost her daughter Josie, and she said once that she didn’t just loose an infant, but a one year old, and a two year old, and an eight year old. We have lost so many possibilities.
I recognize that loss, but today I will keep loving fiercely, buoyantly. Today, on this due date for a boy who did not live, I am celebrating a love so strong it traverses alternate worlds, letting us wonder what he would have been like if he had lived. Last year on this day, I thought I saw him for a moment with his living brother, both blond, both in love with their daddy. Today, we celebrate a love so strong that it connects us to a baby whose features we never got to see. This love wonders and remembers. This love prompts us to eat cake (of course) and imagine. To love without regard for fear. Yes, we have lost so many possibilities. And there are still many possibilities available to us. So we are going to keep on loving.
