As the one year mark quickly approaches, I find myself writing less and less. I know I’m not writing because I find myself avoiding the inevitable emotions of one year. We will have made it a year. Of course we made it, we weren’t given the choice. No one chooses this path. It just happens. You make yourself get through it. Slowly and painfully, but you do.
I was reminded today that one year ago, I was 40 weeks and I left work on maternity leave. I felt proud that I was able to keep working that far along in my pregnancy.
“Happy 40 weeks and guess (due) date to me! Made it this far, so I decided it's time to go on maternity leave 😂😜 maybe some rest will coerce her out during the next 2 weeks“
I remember enjoying the time off work, relaxing and getting the remaining details put together for her birth. I remember the false start I had the following Tuesday. We were so excited, Camden took the day off. When the Braxton Hicks subsided a few hours later, we ended up going out for breakfast and enjoying the day together. The last few days of “just us.” I remember my last prenatal appointment the next day. She was head down and had a healthy heartbeat. Everything was perfect.
As her birthday approaches, memories pop into my head from that day and the days following in the hospital. The emotion is just as strong as it was a year ago. The longing for her is still there, the ache in my arms to hold her is still there, every detail of her birth will always be there in my mind. Nothing will ever change those feelings.