You probably don’t remember me, I wouldn’t expect you to.  I was the girl who came into the ER 9 weeks pregnant and spotting.  Everyone had assured me that they were sure that everything was fine with the baby, especially since I had just had a normal ultrasound a few days ago, but I thought the spotting was strange.  We chatted about the hospital that we both work at and you told me that you were a float nurse working in the ER that day…just small talk to fill the empty space during vital signs and assessments.  Nick and I actually spent much more time with the doctor, who also assured us that everything should be ok, but maybe let’s do an ultrasound just to put my mind at ease.  I knew that something was wrong when the ultrasound took forever and the tech never turned the screen for me to see the baby.  The doctor came in our room a few minutes later and told us what I knew in my heart already.  Our baby had died.  There was no fetal heart beat.  He said his condolences and informed us that there was nothing more to be done in the ER, he was sending us home.  You came back into the room and after going through the discharge information with me nodding my head and muttering “I understand” what seemed like a thousand times, you leaned over, looked directly into my eyes and said (quite forcefully) “It’s not your fault.  You need to know that this is NOT your fault.”  I nodded again and after you left the room Nick even made a comment to me about how rough you were.  The thing is, that was exactly what I needed.  And for some reason, it was you who stayed in my head over the next few days and even after.  Practically every person I know told me the exact same thing but for some reason, I believed you.

During the confirmatory ultrasound at my doctor’s office you popped into my head “It’s not your fault”.

As I sat listening to my doctor talk about probable genetic mutations and how often this actually happens, you were there “It’s not your fault”.

Over the course of the next few days, through my D&C and through hours of laying in bed too numb to cry, there you were “It’s not your fault”.

When I went back to work and was literally surrounded by women who were pregnant and due within weeks of my due date, a constant reminder of what I had lost, “It’s not your fault”.

Even after I got pregnant again just two months later.  When I thought that being pregnant again was all I wanted and then feeling the guilt of realizing that I wasn’t ready yet, “It’s not your fault”.

At Christmas when my aunt pulled me aside to give me a hug and whisper words of advise that can only come from a woman who has lost a baby herself.  When, knowing that I was already pregnant again, I had to smile and say that I was okay before quickly slipping into the bathroom to cry.  And then sitting in that bathroom feeling ridiculous for crying over a fetus that was only 9 weeks gestation. There you were again, “It’s not your fault”.

As all of those work girls had their spring babies, “It’s not your fault”.

As I prepared for Lia to be born, “It’s not your fault”.

Even now, as I hold by beautiful, perfect baby in my arms and I breathe in her sweet baby smell, I am overwhelmed with both gratitude and sorrow.  For the baby I hold and for the one who was lost.  The one that made it possible for Lia to be born.  And there you are again.  Once more reminding me that it’s not my fault.