Wednesday, March 3, 2010
It occurs to me that something was off throughout my pregnancy. If you know me well, you know that I'm a planner. My bridesmaids will tell you that while I was planning my wedding, I was completely obsessive. No detail was too small to worry over, to email and discuss with my ladies. After the wedding was over and done with, I felt lost, with no "project" to plan. (My girls probably were relieved!) So naturally I figured that when I got pregnant, I'd shift into overdrive with my planning...and shopping. Before the pregnancy I would see baby clothes and long for the day that I could buy them for my own child. But the funny thing is, I didn't. I didn't buy a thing. I didn't research daycare for infants. I didn't get a crib or make space in our bedroom for the baby's furniture. I didn't really do anything. So unlike me. I don't think I ever really believed that there was going to be a baby, somehow. The four home pregnancy tests, the multiple doctor visits, seeing that little fuzzy peanut in the sonogram, hearing the heartbeat...and yet somehow it still wasn't a reality for me. Did I know something was wrong, even then? Could I have somehow subconsciously predicted that this tragedy would befall my baby?