I remember counting days backward to figure out if I was really late or not.
I remember taking the pregnancy test with shaking hands.
I remember seeing only one line at first and nearly throwing it away.
I remember taking a second look at it five minutes later and nearly falling down in shock.
I remember the most beautiful sight in the world - two lines!
I remember going for my first blood test.
I remember that I hadn't been to that office in over a year, and I hoped I would be back.
I remember getting my results - 31 (not wonderful, but not awful, either).
I remember that they wanted me to come back in on Monday for another test before scheduling my prenatal appointments.
I remember the weekend, full of hope and promise.
I remember thinking that our last pregnancy had been healthy, and that loss was in the past.
I remember the excitement of a baby in the spring.
I remember going to the zoo on Saturday - all five of us!
I remember sharing the news with our children, and the light in our daughter's eyes.
I remember my second blood test, and waiting for the results.
I remember the tone in the nurse's voice on the other end of the phone, and I knew. It was over.
I remember telling my husband, and my daughter.
I remember my daughter's tears.
I remember my tears, too, bitterly familiar, and yet unfamiliar, from four years ago.
I remember thinking that losing a baby in my forties was different from losing a baby in my thirties.
I remember thinking that a healthy rainbow baby was no guarantee for future pregnancies.
I remember thinking that this loss wasn't devastating the way my others were.
I remember feeling terribly guilty to feel that way.
I remember naming her as a family - "Hope Promise".
I remember that I "should" be ending my first trimester.
I remember that her life had a purpose, too...but God is still showing me what it is.