I have moments, just a few, that I can remember perfectly. That perfect recall is both a curse and a blessing. I can perfectly recall that moment in my doctor's office, looking at the ultrasound of my baby's still heart. I can remember the look on my doctor's face, one tear on his cheek. Funny how such small details stand out. I remember the physical pain. The term "broken heart" doesn't even begin to cover it.
But I can also remember the day I got my positive pregnancy test with her. The elation, the hope, the joy. The sheer shock and disbelief.
I remember sitting in the bathtub about a month before she was born. The water was probably hotter than it should have been, but my back hurt so very badly. She was so active, and I was just watching my stomach in awe, amazed that there was a little person that I was giving life to. It was one of the few moments of my pregnancy that I was not anxiously awaiting the end of my pregnancy, but was perfectly content to be right there...right then. It was just her and me and nothing else in the world mattered.
But the memories of the few hours we got to hold her are so unclear. I can't remember her smell, or how she felt in my arms...I look at the pictures and it sometimes feels like the woman in the pictures is someone else, not me. I wish that have those memories back, and have something else fade with time.