Saturday, August 15, 2009


It's been a few days since we lost Squooshy, and it's feeling more and more like a nightmare than reality. I'm sure that will only continue as we get farther and farther from Tuesday. I hate the sick feeling in my gut that encroaches upon me as images from that awful day flash in my mind, but part of me doesn't want to move any farther away from that day than I have already. Besides the nausea and exhaustion, the miscarriage was the only experience I shared with my baby. He was too small for me to feel him, and we weren't quite far enough along yet for me to start gaining considerable weight. The pain and agony I felt as he left my body was the only time I ever felt him physically.

Matt and I spent yesterday in Indianapolis having what I called a "Happy Day." I had become a little overwhelmed by the sadness of the week, and needed desperately to get out of the house and have a little fun. We did some shopping, ran a few errands, laughed together and held hands as we walked, had a little birthday party for Kamryn (our neice who turned three yesterday), and went to a big, extended family birthday party at my aunt's house. For the most part we felt normal - I didn't cry, we didn't really talk about the baby, and even seeing baby items for sale at the mall didn't make me emotional. I was proud of myself for holding my emotions together. Later in the evening when we were with my family, I even successfully held back tears as aunts, uncles, cousins and my grandma all hugged me tightly and asked if I was doing okay. I was so thankful to be with them.

It all came crashing down when we got back to Mom and Dad's though. As we got closer to bedtime, it sunk in more and more that we had lived an entire day and had barely thought about, cried about or agonized over our Squooshy. As I sat there watching TV, a part of my brain began to wonder if I had ever really been pregnant in the first place. Maybe the baby was never really there? Maybe you imagined it? Maybe it was just 12 weeks of daydreaming?

We went to bed, and I collapsed tearfully into Matt's arms. He was quick to reassure me that I was not going crazy. That we indeed had a little baby growing inside of me until Tuesday. That it was okay to move on and have fun. That we don't have to spend the rest of our lives grieving. That we will continue to remember our pregnancy and grieve our loss, but we're also going to continue having fun and living our life...

I'm so afraid of forgetting that little baby...


  1. Oh, Katie. You will never forget. You will move on, but you will never forget.

  2. You just keep on is your therapy, and it lets us all know you are okay. Plus, I just love to read everything you write. I hope you write a book someday. Mom

  3. Hi Katie and Matt, You've been so loved through this awful process called grieving, that it warms my heart. I'm one of those that have walked in your shoes and I'm not sure exactly what to say to give you peace of mind and heart. There will be a day when life will return to "normal", but I'm not really sure you will ever forget. I don't think we're suppose to. I guess what got me through this is knowing that there will be an eternal day when you and your child be together. Go tell that to Satan!
    gwen steenhoven

  4. You will never forget. You and Matt have so much love for your baby and each other. Your love is what will help you remember and it is most certainly okay to laugh and have a good time with one another that is how your marriage stays strong.

  5. I am proud of you for not breaking now at the sales. I would cry at baby/pregnancy commercials in the beginning and even months later. Details will fade but you will never forget the love and the hurt that will always have a piece of your heart.

  6. That is one thing you will never forget. Yes you will be able to someday move on but the grieving process will never all the way be over. But it is okay to go out and have fun and try and get back to the normal. I am praying for you and for Matt through this trying time.