Have you ever seen the movie Groundhog Day? I feel like that's my life.
Only every day isn't Groundhog Day, it's The Day I Find Out My Baby Is Dead. I'm laying on the exam table again, in the dark, staring at a monitor
hoping for a flicker and seeing and empty sac again. Being told that
maybe my dates are wrong (they're not) and that we'll look again next
week. It's the same room, the same people, the same words.
But it's not actually the same day, just the same situation. It's not a chance to do it over and make it right. Time is passing. I'm getting older. My daughter is getting older, getting further and further in age from her potential sibling who may or may not ever come. And it's not the same baby. It's a new baby each time, a new hope, a new cause for joy, a unique, irreplaceable soul that I will never have the chance to hold or love.
The world continues on, but I'm stuck in that room, even when I'm not in it. I think of when I was last there, wonder how long until I'll be there again.
So I guess it's not much like Groundhog Day at all.