Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Another August 4th

I remember August 4, 2011 in amazing detail. I have other vivid memories from last summer, but they are moments... not entire days. August 4th is different. I know exactly what I was wearing (my favorite pair of old blue jeans, a gray v-neck t-shirt, my teal Toms, and my silver cross around my neck). I can picture myself sitting on the sofa in my living room, saying goodbye to Maggie, and then laying on the table during the first of several sonograms knowing what the numbers meant but not wanting to believe that my nightmare could really be happening.

From that point on, the day will run through my mind like it's all happening again if I give myself the time to think about it. Exact words I spoke and others spoke to me. Little details like the weight of the blanket on my legs as I rode in a wheelchair to my room. Overarching themes, primarily the depth of the fear, really terror, running through my mind as I came to terms with the situation. I was only 25 weeks pregnant. My baby was so small that my belly was essentially flat (as I would hear more times that I can count in the following days), and he could be born any time. It should have been a day like any other, but in a moment it became one of the most memorable days of my life.

August 4, 2012 will never hold that sort of place in my memories. As days go, it was rather unremarkable. Kevin had to work, so I spent most of the day alone with Tate. We cuddled. He did some of his best daredevil moves while smiling so big his eyes were barely open. We both stayed in our pajamas until lunchtime. All the small stuff I remember from that day last year? Most of it has already faded, and for that I am extremely thankful.

I'd be lying if I said that last August 4th was anything less than life-changing. In the time it took a doctor to speak one sentence, the life I lived before that day ended. The job I'd been planning to return to would be filled by someone else. All the things I'd hoped to do before Tate was here would be cancelled. Relationships I'd built over a period of years would languish during my almost three months of bed rest, and as much as I'd like to say that things went right back to normal once I was free, they didn't. It sounds so overly dramatic, but those two months in room 771 changed everything... and not completely for good.

But you know what? It was all worth it. Everything I missed. Everything I lost. Everything I will never get back. When I look back on those two months, they are filled with bittersweet memories, but I have no regrets. Tate is here. He's happy and healthy, and this August 4th, when all the scary memories came flooding back, I wasn't sad at all.

All I thought was I wouldn't change a thing.

the little guy, August 4, 2012


  1. So very thankful with you and for you!

  2. He is an amazing little boy.. and such a gift! SO glad I got to meet him :)