52 weeks ago my dad finished painting A's room.
51 weeks ago, sometime after my morning appointment with my OB, Dr.Best, A died in my womb.
52 weeks and 2 days ago Monkey had her first piano recital. Her third one is this coming Sunday.
I am waiting for a call from the scheduling lady at Dr.Best's practice about my first real appointment for this go-round. It might be next Tuesday, 52 weeks to the day.
I am melancholy these days. Going day to day. Classes start next week. In fact, classes start on the 30th. Thankfully, I don't have to teach that day, or on the 31st. But I do have to teach on Friday, the 1st. A year after we left the hospital. I hope I can muster some enthusiasm for my how not to write papers or what to look for when you read one talk.
I can't figure out how my current condition is affecting my feelings about the anniversary. I thought it would make it easier to face if I was pregnant or in the middle of a cycle when it rolled around, but I may have been wrong. I am apprehensive. I can't imagine, so far, a happy ending to this particular pregnancy. I am not against it in any way, you understand, just can't picture it. I can't even think of the fetbryo as a baby. Maybe it's because I spent most of the last two weeks helping Monkey deal with her feelings, but the thing I am thinking about most often, if I am to be truthful, is that if this ends badly, it will mean another delay, longer time for Monkey to wait. Cold, I know. I named my blog what I did partially to remind myself to not shut down when the time came, but I am finding now that I have to give myself a little more time.
Randomly, the last couple of days, I have been remembering things. Parts of labor. Right before I left the house to go to the hospital. Right before he was born. Right after. JD holding A. Very vivid things, and yet somehow muted. I know they are not happening now. But I know they happened. And it feels like yesterday. Shortly before six months I wrote "Turns out, six months is no time at all." Seems a year is not much longer.