11 months gone

It is the final anniversary of Harper bean's death before the arrival of spawn.

One month from today, I will be holding my son. Hopefully healthy and whole.

The month of April has already brought with it a flood of memories and milestones. One year ago today, I reached full term in my pregnancy. It was a huge milestone for me, and I remember feeling enormous relief that at least my baby would not be born prematurely. That, somehow, it was all going to be OK.

This weekend is the annual April show of the Sugarloaf Crafts Festival. I went last year, at this time, to distract myself from worry about my heartbroken bean and upcoming birth. I love this show - it's wear I bought my wedding ring, our dining room furniture, countless gifts, and half the art in our house.

Last year, I bought a dress.

It was black and artsy and stretchy and unique. "Hopefully it'll fit," I remember joking with the artist, "since I clearly can't try it on now!"

The first time I wore it was to Harper's memorial service.

About this time last year, we went to Opening Day at Nats Park, as we did yesterday. We joked about going into labor at the ballgame.

At least the sea of Harper jerseys no longer causes me pain. At least, not more than a twinge.

I can't believe it's been almost a year since we lost her.

I wonder a lot about what these anniversaries will be like after spawn is here. Will my calendar feel as haunted?

Is it OK if I forget a little?

My spawn paranoia is getting worse. I keep myself busy because when I'm not, I think about everything that can go wrong. The heartbeat just stopping. Listeriosis. Deafness. Blindness. Heart defect. Getting caught on the cord.

Fortunately, spawn has been reassuringly, painfully active. No missing that he's alive and kicking.

Except for right at this moment. Right at this moment when he's not moving at all, and I am trying not to think too much about it.

26 more days of waiting.