I Remember

  That time of the month comes and goes and before I ever take the test, I know. A knot forms in my gut and my mind races and I'm scared... so scared, because I remember.
  I see the lines coming on the pregnancy test as I sit in the Walmart bathroom just taking a test because it's now a tradition to take my tests in the Walmart bathroom. After all it's the 6th time I've done it! And I remember.
  At about 6 weeks or so I feel panicky because I still feel good and I worry that this time too my baby is dead, and I remember.
  At 9 weeks I go in for my first OB appointment and I have a new doctor because my favorite doctor of all time has moved away and I, the one who doesn't cry in front of people I don't know, bawl like a baby, because I remember.
  I get an ultrasound at my first OB appointment for the simple solitary reason that the doctor couldn't find a heartbeat when she listened with the doppler and since she's an awesome doctor too, who also happens to be pregnant with me, she understands and vows I will not go home without hearing or seeing a heartbeat, because I remember. 
  I rehash every move I made during the entire 22 weeks I was pregnant last time, wondering what I did or didn't do and what I can do differently this time to keep my baby safe and I know that nothing I did or didn't do had anything to do with her death, and I remember.
  I vow to never eat Blue cheese again, never take a sauna again and on down the list until I'm never even gonna pick my nose again for fear my baby will die because of it, and I remember.
  I look at Reece as he tries to act all big and brave for me and I know that inside he's just as scared to death as I am, but he thinks that men are supposed to be macho or some dumb manly thing like that and I know, he remembers too.
  I listen to my little 3 year old talk about her sister that lives in Heaven and how she wants to go visit her and the other babies sometime, and I am amazed because she couldn't even know about those babies unless Jesus really did tell her like she explained to me one day, and I remember.
  I go out to the cemetery to visit Raina and I sit in the grass and trim the tall grass and weeds from around her gravestone and the figurine of the baby cradled in the angel wings that I found for her and I feel this baby move and I cry and cry, because I remember.
  I hear someone tell me about their daughter who just had a miscarriage after she went through all the nausea business and was just starting to feel better, I remember a blog entry she wrote after one of her other miscarriages and I get mad all over again with her, and I remember.
  Someone else tells me how her daughter just lost her first baby at 12 weeks and that her daughter feels lost and I get a huge lump in my throat and all I can do is nod, because I remember that too.
  I lay in bed and I feel this baby thumping around doing the weird gymnastic tryouts that babies do and I remember, and it scares me to death that even though I am now past that 22 week mark, suddenly one day I will realized that THIS baby hasn't moved for a while either and I will poke my belly and do jumping jacks and still nothing will happen and then this kid thumps again and my breath hitches and I smile and I try not to cry and I am a big huge crab because I am trying so hard to act big and brave not be stressed out about anything because that will hurt my baby you know, and I really don't want to act big and brave or anything else. I just want to hide in a corner and cry and have this whole nightmare of 9 whole bloody long months of waiting and worrying over with and have a live kid who will drive me insane because it is such a nerd just like it's 2 nutcases that pass off as older sisters and all the while I'm crying deep inside because there aren't more crazy nutcases running around driving me insane, batty and up the wall, and I remember and I will never forget. And really? I don't think I even want to.