Today is the 26th.

Just typing the title of this post made me cry, because I know what's after the title. Pain.

Today would have been the latest I would have been allowed to go in my pregnancy that I lost in March. To think that today I would have been holding my second tiny baby.

I know that there are people who will read this post and think "Jesus, get over it." and to a degree, they're right. But for right now, fuck 'em. They have obviously never lost a child that they loved from the moment they knew about it.

Some people who read this will know that this was my second loss, and wonder why this one upsets me more than the first. Know that it doesn't. I feel this way every May 12th (when I found out) May 19th (when I lost it) and January 6th (it's due date).

The difference between the two is that I was pregnant with Nathaniel on January 6th. I am not pregnant now.

I hope that anyone reading this will send up a prayer for me and my family, just so that I can have the strength to get through the day. I am at peace with what happened, but I am still allowed to grieve.

And grieve I must. Please don't think that I don't know full well how blessed I already am. I do. Everytime I get a knee to my eye or a small foot in my back during the night, I do smile. (Sometimes after I get mad, but it's still there.) When I look at the mess that is my living room, I get exasperated, but I wouldn't trade that toy mess for anything. Same goes for the spots all over the carpet. The applesauce stains... the rice that dried to the carpet... the spaghetti sauce on the chair. (I know that makes me sound like a bad housekeeper, but I don't care what you think. My family knows I love them. Besides, the dishes are done, so there.)

I have come to terms with being "one and done," but it doesn't lessen the pain that I am feeling today.

If you've read this, and know someone who has gone through a miscarriage, say a short prayer for them today too. There is a part of them that will never be whole again.