There's something different about this pregnancy. (Other than the fact that I've made it past 10 weeks.) We're coming up on the first anniversary of our first miscarried child's due date (the time in which our little one would have been celebrating his or her first birthday). Which means that it's perfectly possible that I could be pregnant with this baby right now even had that baby lived. He/she would have been nine months when we conceived this time, 18 months when this baby is due, and that's well within the time frame of "possible". We could be expecting our third living child right now instead of our second. And there is something about that realization that is just crushing.
With each of our last three pregnancies, there was always that bittersweet knowledge that all our babies had to die for the newest baby to live. But now that we've gotten to a point where our current child could coexist with one of the babies we lost, there is a whole new pain involved. I guess there was a part of me that accepted the losses easier knowing that because they happened, they allowed us the gift of another child. Every time I'm confronted with a new pregnancy, there has been a kind of choice - I could have had one of the children we lost or we could have our current child, but we could only ever have one. But losing our second child didn't really make this child possible - for the first time, there is a scenario in which not only one was possible, but two. I know I should be grateful for all the children in between, because even if they are not here with us, they are eternal souls. But I'm not really there yet. All I can think is that our second child could be here and this one inside of me could both be here and for once, there wouldn't be a need to choose.
I thought I had accepted and made peace with our losses, at least the first few, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe I'll never really find peace with them. I guess what peace I did find was conditional, a peace based on the idea that our baby died so others can live and when that reality didn't material, the peace it supported shattered. Why did our second child have to die? What good has come from it? Why can't he/she be here now, rejoicing with the rest of our family at the new pregnancy and new sibling? (As much as a 10 month old can rejoice at those things, right?) Today, I'm feeling like someone is missing more than ever.