A year ago, today, I was 23 weeks, 2 days pregnant with Brianna. On that day, I woke up in the early morning hours with a lot of lower back pain. I thought it was because I had been on bedrest at home for about a month and that my muscles were just tired of laying around all day. I tried to rest, but nothing seemed to help. I asked my husband to stay home from work since I didn't feel well. Around lunch time, I couldn't take it anymore and called the OB. She had me come in to the office and discovered that I was about a centimeter dilated. I was terrified as we rushed to the hospital.
Once at the hospital, I was put on medicines to stop the progress of labor. I was informed that I would be in the hospital on bedrest for the foreseeable future. They would monitor me every day with a NST (non-stress test) to make sure I wasn't having contractions. The goal was to get me to 28 weeks. At that point, we'd discuss whether or not I could go home (but still on bedrest). I never got to 28 weeks.
Today has been hard. I keep remembering the fear and the hope of last July 26. The fear that my baby was in trouble but the hope that the bedrest and the doctors would be able to help me save her. I remember the kind and caring nurses. I remember the compassion of my friends and family as they offered to help out with caring for the cats and looking after the house. I remember the solid rock that my husband was on that horrible day. Most of all, I remember the tiny kicks and flips of my little girl as she moved inside me, telling me that on that day, she was still ok and alive.
As the next two weeks unfold, I know I'll have more memories. I know that they will leave me in tears, leave me breathless, leave me aching for Brianna. I hope that some of the memories will also make me smile as I remember her tiny life and how happy I was that she was ours, if only for a short while.