Ten years ago tonight, we went to bed with a lifetime in front of us. We had dinner with Mike's parents, on the way home we talked about having a small get together when Mike's friend was in town, our last party before the baby was born. Did I wake up in the middle of the night, as I so often did, to feel her moving around, dancing, enjoying the homemade egg rolls we'd had for dinner? Did I feel her moving? Did I sleep through her death? My body resting as my daughter's heart slowed and stopped. What was I dreaming about as she slipped away from us? I was 36w 4d pregnant with our first child, and when I woke up in the morning, she was already gone.
I can't revisit that morning. I cannot relive that right now, I am too weak, and I've done it a thousand times already. None of my searching will matter, because after ten years, we still don't know why. The experts, the tests, the studies could not explain to us why our healthy baby girl had died. The look in the doctors eyes when they all told us, there is no answer.
Tonight I am letting Sophia and Miles sleep in my bed. I will wake up and check their breathing, like I always do. I will touch their faces and hold their hands. None of this brings back my Charlotte, none of this makes it better. But it gives me something to hold onto.