Sometimes I Wonder

In 2001 Way Cooler and I packed up and moved (with what we could fit in our Corolla) to Texas. That's a long way from Vancouver (geographically and in every other conceivable way as well). We were on our way to get his PhD and I would work to support this endeavour.

A funny thing happened when we crossed the border. My maternal instinct turned on. Until then, five years married, I really had no interest in having kids any time soon. That all changed almost in a heartbeat.

It didn't really matter how I felt though, we had a plan. We had a goal, we were not having a baby. Instead I continued to teach other people's kids (and increase my list of things I would NEVER do as a parent).

However, the longing continued.

After two years the coursework was done, the orals passed and the dissertation well in hand. I tossed my pills in the garbage and began to dream.

I was completely shocked (and utterly delighted) to discover I was pregnant a mere month later.

The world took on a new glow. I was consumed with happiness. I rubbed my tummy 16-60 times a day and each time told the little life "mommy loves you". I followed the pregnancy diet to the T and began to feel as if God was smiling on us again.

You see, Texas was a time of loss. Not only were we away from the familiar and all our friends and family, but in the two years we were there all three of Way Cooler's remaining grandparents, two of his friends and mentors and most shockingly his dad, all passed away.

At times we felt enveloped by grief. Sadness seemed to soak into our home.

That all dissipated one May afternoon. When I went for my first check-up and to confirm the home test, the nurse practitioner said, "now if you have a miscarriage, remember, it is nothing you have done." I brushed it off. I certainly was not about to miscarry. We'd been through enough. This baby was wanted, prayed over and loved and coming to live with us in January.

In mid-June, in the ultra-sound room of some incredibly over-priced hospital I was told the worst. While I was still carrying my child, he had died some weeks ago.

Grief came screaming back. At times it threatened to overwhelm me. I thought I would never recover.

I did.

I went on to have two of the most delightful boys a mom could possibly ask for. The grief faded and is for the most part completely gone.

Noah would have turned 4 this week. While the grief is gone, sometimes I wonder about him. What would he have been like, how would our lives be different?

I will never know, nor would I care to change a moment of what I do have.

But still, sometimes I wonder.