No Name

This week was the mark I had set early on when discovering I was expecting.  Not because it's my little sister's birthday week---but because by this point in April we would have certainly had my level 2 sonogram to get a good look at the baby and know the gender.

By now we would have had a name.

Nursery bedding materials would be collecting for sewing.

Flutters would give way to baby kicks.

A belly would have grown.

As I posted on Facebook "Time heals all wounds." –Liar L. Pantsonfire. There are good days and bad.  This week has been the later. Spurred by a seemingly very small event.  Rewinding my emotional state by a month.

Physically it's as though my body has completely lost sense of how it should operate. Each Thursday night as I prep for Emma's Friday classes something seems to trigger in me a reminder of the Thursday night troubles started.  The long wait through her classes that Friday morning to see the doctor in the afternoon. Then it's a blur.  It feels like it's been months & months, yet I look at a calendar and realize it's been weeks. Fourteen weeks pregnant.  Guess maybe it will take at least that to heal.

Still so confused how a nameless, faceless loss can be felt so deep. Not certain any time will change that.