The last day of the worst year of my life*

Two weeks ago was the one year anniversary of my first loss.

I was in Fort Lauderdale at the time of the “anniversary” (Aren’t anniversaries supposed to be happy occasions?). My week there wasn’t bad – it was nice to have a reprieve from the cold and snow. I was busy with meetings Sunday evening, Monday afternoon/evening, Tuesday morning, Wednesday afternoon/evening and Thursday morning. I was busy but also had some “free” time or “me” time. Monday and Wednesday I went to the hotel gym, had breakfast then went out by the pool to read Gone Girl (I started it on the flight down, and finished it Thursday night!) Tuesday afternoon I went to Hollywood Beach, had lunch there and walked the boardwalk. I met plenty of new people at the meetings – some of the meetings had 75 attendees. Out of all the people I met only two people asked the dreaded “Do you have any kids?”

I never know how to answer that. What I want to say is – Yes, I have two, but they died. Instead I say “No” and try to give a stern expression that says: I don’t want to have this personal conversation with you. Most people nod politely and change the subject, or I change the subject.

I actually felt more melancholy the night before the “anniversary” than the day itself. The day before I remember thinking several times – “This is the last day of the worst year of my life*. This is it.” For a while that night I stared out the window of my room watching the planes take off from the airport – they were taking off headed out over the ocean. The hotel was only about 3 miles from the airport, my room was looking out over Port Everglades. I stood there watching the planes disappear into the stars or passing clouds. All those people taking off – going somewhere, doing something. I wondered about those people. Where were they going? Were they traveling for work or fun? An exotic vacation? Maybe to celebrate a wedding? Or something sad like a funeral? Where were they from? Maybe there was someone on one of those planes who had lost a pregnancy like me. Or someone trying to get pregnant, or someone who hated kids. Maybe grumpy old men. Maybe flashy “Real Housewives” types. I wondered about the baby I had lost – does my baby see me? Can my baby feel how sad I am that I lost him/her? Does he/she wish that his/her mother would pull it together and stop being sad or grumpy? Am I embarrassing my baby, wherever he/she might be?

It was rather uneventful. I didn’t flip out, I didn’t cry. I didn’t bring it up to The Husband – I doubt he remembers the exact date of our losses, just the months. I just kept going, like I have been.

*So far.

The view at Logan the day I left - bye bye snow.

The view at Logan the day I left – bye bye snow.

Davie, FL - What a difference a few hours makes, no snow on the ground.

Davie, FL – What a difference a few hours makes, no snow on the ground.

Hollywood Beach

Hollywood Beach


Hollywood Beach

Getting my feet wet in the Atlantic - it was actually really nice and warm.

Getting my feet wet in the Atlantic – it was actually really nice and warm.

A frozen Long Island

A frozen Long Island

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11 Responses to The last day of the worst year of my life*

  1. ChickinNH says:

    I think about those things too – whether my baby can “see” me and if he knows how much I loved him. It’s a comforting thought to me but honestly I don’t know whether I believe it or not. I hope you don’t feel that s/he is embarrassed by you in anyway — I hope that if anything our babies just feel our love. I’m glad the anniversary was relatively okay for you. I find that the day(s) leading up to it seem to be worse than the day itself too.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I don’t know if I believe it or not, either. But I guess if the chance that they are in a spirit world and are keeping tabs on me, I’d like them to see me as a put together woman and not a hot mess. Thanks for your support ❤


  2. I too wonder all these things about my babies. my husband doesn’t remember exact dates either. I’m glad to know you’re keeping yourself busy and having some “you” time. I’ll be thinking about you tomorrow. Hugs to you.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Krystal says:

    I hate that question as well – do you have any kids? How many? I always change my answer, depending on who’s asking or my mood. And I can relate to wondering about other people in airports. We took a trip to California after our boys died, and all I could think about waiting for the plane was who are these people? Where are they going and why? I knew why I was there, but I was curious if other people’s circumstances were similar. I’m sure to other people, my husband and I just looked like a young couple going on vacation. Thinking if you during this rough time.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks for your support hun. I don’t think I have ever actually acknowledged my babies when asked if I have kids. I never feel up to having that conversation or going through it all. Maybe one day I will.
      I just read your most recent blog post, and love love loved it. I know how busy you are with a new babe at home and your support means so much. Hugs.


  4. lyra211 says:

    Wow, I love that thought: This is the last day of the worst year of my life. I will be keeping that in mind when our anniversary comes up in September. (And holy moley, do I hope it’s true!)

    And I very much understand the suckiness of having to answer the question of whether or not you have kids — that’s the worst. These days, if I feel the conversation even moving in that direction, I tense up. I’m so sorry for your loss — our first losses were similarly timed (although for different reasons), and I simply can’t imagine going through another one.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for stopping by and for your comments. I’m sorry that you know the feeling of this type of loss too. But it’s nice to have this little online community that “gets it” where I can go to vent when I need to. 🙂


  5. I just had my ugly ‘anniversary’ this past Saturday and I spent the day asking myself the same questions about my child seeing me and knowing how I was doing and wondering how life would be if I had her.

    I also don’t know what to tell others when they ask if I have children. I just say no because I don’t feel like explaining. It’s no longer an easy question to answer.

    I’m sorry for your loss and best wishes to you in your journey 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Pingback: February Favorites | Sweeping Up the Broken Pieces

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