How Could That Possibly "Bee" A Blessing?

After looking at the calendar I realized what today is. Today marks the fifth anniversary of the day I found out I had lost our baby. I just wasn't feeling right, so I called and went in. They did an ultrasound and found the baby, but no heartbeat. My world came to a screeching stop that day. I remember calling my mom and having to tell her. Mom and Dad were at our house within about six hours, pretty good since they lived five hours away at the time.

I remember sinking onto the kitchen floor in front of the stove crying, as I told Inkling. I remember trying to explain to a three-year-old Prophet that the baby he'd already named Rachael had died and gone to heaven. I remember yelling at the nurse to get me a pregnant teenage mom from the hallway so I could give her a piece of my married-for-nine-years-and-never-had-an-easy-pregnancy mind while they were trying for the tenth time to find a vein for an IV. (not my proudest moment) I remember putting away all my maternity clothes. I remember not talking to a single person other than Inkling and Ruby on the phone for days. I remember wanting my grandpa who had died the year before and knowing that he'd have been there in a heartbeat if he'd been alive. I remember cleaning 24/7 for 2 months. I remember going to bed only to wake up shortly after and not be able to go back to sleep. I remember being told by Inkling that Ruby and Mr. Debonair were expecting their first baby and not knowing how to sort out my emotions of grief, jealousy, and utter joy that they would finally experience parenthood. I remember immediately beginning the planning of her baby shower. I remember the first time I went back to church and left crying 10 minutes later. I remember the stupid things people said because instead of saying nothing and just loving on me they thought they had to say something. I remember the meals that were brought to us for two weeks or so. I remember the people from church who stopped by to check on me. I remember the sympathy cards. I remember my mom and dad being there for over a week. I remember playing Mancala with my mom at least 500 times while we sat and ate our traditional, Christmas shrimp ring that also included crabmeat that year. I remember making chocolate dipped pretzels with the boys for Santa that year. I remember that the boys got a stuffed crocodile and a play grill that talked that year for Christmas. I remember that planning that shower for Ruby was the beginning of my healing and ability to move on. I remember the women that came out of the woodwork to share their stories of loss with me. I remember thinking, "I'm not alone". I remember the feeling of being so loved in the middle of the most utter devastating moments of my life.

Wow, could that seriously have been five years ago? I sit here and cry as I post this... I havn't done that for years. I think the most stunning realization is that if that incredibly horrible thing hadn't happened to me, I would never have known my precious Bee. Six months after that, we were pregnant again. The entire pregnancy I was out of mind. After two premature births and then a loss, one can not help but be scared to death during the next pregnancy. It was actually when I had traveled to MO to do Ruby's baby shower with Inkling that I told everyone that I thought I was pregnant. I have said since I was ten years old that I wanted four kids. I have four in my heart. I have a small box of things from that baby. Ultrasoud pictures, sympathy cards, prescription bottles from the pain medication, and a bar of soap that was bought for the boys that year containing a plastic dino inside... the smell is a reminder... oddly enough not of the horribleness of it all, but of how surrounded by love I felt. I never thought at the time that anything "good" would ever come of that time, but now five years later I have a memory of a time when my mom and I bonded even more and I also have a blessing running around my house like a maniac as I type. Her name is Bee.