Some day . . .

March 16, 2009

On my drive in to work this morning I was thinking about my answer to the question, "Have you been feeling her move?" While I was in the hospital before we lost Harper, feeling her move inside me was one of the guaranteed ways to get a smile on my face. It reminded me of what I was fighting for. It was while I was in the hospital that we found out she was a girl too. I was excited to name her Harper after Nelle Harper Lee.

Every day the OB's would come to my room and we would get to hear her heartbeat. It was always beating so fast. I loved that sound. That will always be one of the most beautiful sounds in the world to me. For a couple of days before I knew that she had died, the OB's would ask me, "Have you been feeling her move?" I hadn't. I didn't realize that meant something. Everything was going haywire with my body. I had one hundred pounds of fluid on me. The doctors couldn't run tests on me because the fluid distorted so many of the results. I figured that if I wasn't feeling her move it was because I couldn't feel her through all the fluid. The damn fluid.

The day we found out she had died they were doing an ultrasound. They were having a hard time locating her through the fluid. I was tense. But then when they found her I thought, "Well there she is, everything is okay." Like if she had died she would no longer have been inside me. It took the doctor explaining to me that her little heart wasn't beating any longer for me to understand that even though her 14 ounce body was still there, she was no longer alive. That's why I hadn't been feeling her move.

I wish I could go back and pay closer attention to what she felt like the last time I felt her move. But then again, I guess that's the least of my wishes.

It's strange to have been pregnant and not have a child to show for it. My body has experienced this miracle, but in a distorted sort of way. I will never stop wishing that Harper's daddy, grandparents, uncles and aunts would have gotten to experience her the way I did. No one but me felt her move. It doesn't seem fair that they didn't get to feel her.

She made such an impact for having such a short little life. One day will you all get to know her? Will I get to beam with pride at the souls of my loved ones getting to know her? I wish you could have seen her. She was perfect and beautiful. Every part of her was perfectly formed, just so very small. Some day . . .