I had a miscarriage over the 4th July weekend two years ago. I clearly remember realizing that I was actually losing the baby and being able to hear the fireworks outside at the same time. I was only seven weeks pregnant, but we had already seen the baby’s heartbeat. We even had a sonogram picture, but I couldn’t find it this morning.
A miscarriage is one of those things that never goes away, it just hurts less as more time passes. I have several other friends that have been through it and it seems like the thing that helps the most is the kids that we have that made it. I got very lucky, three months after we lost the first baby I got pregnant with the twins. Last year, the squad was about six weeks old when the 4th rolled around, so I was too exhausted to dwell on it. This year I’ve been thinking about it a lot.
When we found out that we were having twins, my brother said that God had made a mistake and he felt bad about the first one and was trying to make up for it. Another one of my friends told me her mom said Claudia was that same baby, she just came back. Someone else pointed out that if it hadn’t happened, I would never have had Ian and Claudia. That makes it worth it.