Guess Who's Two

A tiny digital marquee bearing one highly anticipated word, "pregant," appeared in a matter of moments, before I could even finish brushing my teeth.  Just like that my whole world changed. 

I wonder if it's like that for all women.  I wonder if all women feel like I felt, like the earth had just shifted and suddenly instead of orbiting the sun it spins around that new life growing inside of me. 

It's hard to believe that it's been two years and nine months since that moment.  Baby Cude would be two years old today if he or she were born on their due date.  We'd be learning songs together, sharing story time, chasing Gideon through the backyard, walking through the neighborhood with our Radio Flyer and I'd be in an neverending battle with Grandpa and Grandma down the street about spoiling their first grandchild.

I talk about Gabriel with relative ease but I struggle to talk or even write much about the miscarriage.  It is a tremendously painfu subject and something that confounds me and hurts me, I think, even more than my experience with Gabriel. 

Last year for this entry I shared what I'd written in the journal that I still keep for Baby Cude.  I started the journal the morning of my pregnancy test, and when the feeling of missing him or her gets to be too much still, I write it in there.  This year, I've elected to keep those words between me and my first child private.

I think about Baby Cude every day.  I love to remember the morning I learned Baby Cude was on his way, the earth quaking, the dream I had for him, the love I immediately felt.  Losing Baby Cude stripped a certain innocence from me, but also prepared me for the challenge that came with carrying Gabriel to term.  After losing Baby Cude, there was nothing I wouldn't do to insure that Gabriel wa born alive, that I would see him face to face and have the chance to hold him like I never got to do with Baby Cude.  As he left this world among the many things I said to him, I asked him to tell his big brother or sister how much I loved him or her, and to remember that I would be along to hold them again someday. 

I like to think God took my babies from me because He knows how much I love babies.  Two babies wait for me in Heaven and there are days when that's what sustains me. 

There's not a doubt in my mind that caring for a two-year old little boy is challenging, frustrating, and exhausting.  It's impossible to describe how much I wish I could be so challenged, frustrated, and exhausted right now. 

A Google search indicates only about 4 to 5% of babies are born on their due date.  Of course, even fewer babies are born with anencephaly and so it's not so hard to believe we could beat these odds too. 

In my mind, today will always be my first baby's birthday.  And to my deeply loved, long-awaited, greatly missed Baby Cude, I wish the happiest of days.