Every year I try really hard not to relive the last week of Cora's life. And I always fail utterly. Every year I think about what I was doing on a particular day. And it starts today, April 26th (a Wednesday), the day of my last regular OB appointment. I was 37 1/2 weeks, and having fairly regular contractions and a LOT of pain/pressure "down under" on top of still being horribly sick like I had been the entire pregnancy. I was very ready to be done with the whole pregnancy thing. Not only that, but my brother was graduating in Utah that weekend, and my parents would be only a 3 hour drive from me (as opposed to an 11 or so hour drive), so I asked him if he would induce me.
But I was healthy, the baby was healthy, and their policy stood against elective inductions before 39 weeks, so he refused. I figured it was a long shot, but was still disappointed.
Cora died Sunday night.
If only he'd agreed. I can't help but run through it in my head. What might have happened if he'd agreed?
Of course, there's no answer to that. It's quite possible with her cord where it was that she might have not made it through labor, even with an emergency csection. But she might have.
Words cannot describe how desperately I want to hear that cry. To see her open her eyes and look at me. And it hurts so tremendously that I didn't get to. I had that ripped from me.
The person I was died with her. Someone else walks in her place. I like to think that this new person I am is better, more kind, more compassionate, more patient, a better mother. More appreciative of every moment I DO have. But, days like today, I really miss the person I was. I miss the future she was going to have.
I miss my baby girl.