October 15th was more busy than most Saturdays as of late. It was the last day of my “fat camp”, an eight week program RB and I had enrolled in with another couple to learn better eating habits, work out and lose a few pounds (I actually lost over 18 and am back to my 2014 wedding weight). The next morning I was leaving at 5am for a week in DC for my annual Union conference, my first extended amount of time without the baby since before he was conceived (well over two years at this point). I had to get my bangs cut, grab some Paleo friendly supplies from Wegmans, and my mother was planning on stopping by to visit so she could see me off. I also had a tattoo appointment that ended up being cancelled, which worked out for the best since I ended up spending extra time with my boys and we started to decorate outside the house for Halloween.
When the baby went down for his second nap and we settled into our respective phones for a well deserved rest, I discovered that besides being a ridiculously packed day, October 15 was also Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. I didn’t need to check the calendar but quickly scanned through the dates, just in case. Sadly I confirmed that it had been 8 weeks to the day that I had lost our BB2, the precious baby I hadn’t even known I needed until s/he had left my body in lengthy waves of fierce abdominal pain and blood, coupled with unstoppable sobbing.
S/he was about five weeks old; the worst part had been discovering that BB2’s birthday would be the same week as my Grandma’s, who had passed away two and a half weeks before. I thought it was some brilliant design to help me remember her, a fiery spirit I could name Germaine, or maybe Gerald, so her memory would survive through another century. That was not meant to be, so I relived my sadness, cried in our bathroom for a while, and took the opportunity on October 15th to share the news about BB2 on my Facebook page. I asked my friends to be kind and remember that off the cuff comments like “Time for #2!” and “So, when is BB getting a little sister” can be hurtful, even if not intentional. Many of our family members and friends saw it; a couple of my Union sisters from around the State and DC gave me long hugs, kind words and sympathetic smiles when they saw me last week too.
In honor of my BB2 I lit a candle at 7pm and let it burn until bedtime. I just wish there was some way to tell s/he just how incredibly loved s/he was, and there has been an indescribable emptiness resting inside my heart every day s/he has been gone.