the four that came first.

There was a question the other week on BG's application for school that took my breath away;

"Any other children in the house?".

For just a second, I couldn't breathe. It was back. That suffocating feeling of the knowledge that there are four little lives whose laughter will never fill my house.

Then BG laughed and I was back. I was here and so was she. All was okay.

My first miscarriage never really registered with me. Hear me out. I was not in any way, shape or form ready for a child. Obviously we were excited and we were handling things but we weren't ready. In a way, when that loss happened, I could chalk it up to it not being the right time. Maybe that's weird, but it's how I felt. It also felt surreal. I can still remember the doctor telling me there was no heartbeat, but it's almost like watching someone else go through that.

My second miscarriage hurt. It hurt bad. It was a baby that we were trying for. It's different somehow. I know it shouldn't be, but it was. One week we're watching a baby bounce around on the screen and the next week I'm watching a doctor prepare his face to give me the worst news you can give a pregnant lady. Another hospital. Another surgical procedure. Another loss.

My third loss lead us to a reproductive endocrinologist. Our ob was out of answers and being at a third loss qualifies you for all sorts of fun titles in the infertility/recurrent pregnancy loss world. My heart hurt as we ran test after test and couldn't find answers for why this just didn't seem to be happening for us.

We took a few years off to let our hearts heal and to figure out our next plan of attack. In 2008, we got pregnant again. We were seeing our RE at the time and taking every precaution we could. After a few weeks, bedrest and multiple "scares" we went in for the appointment that changed it all. I laid on that table and knew. My oh so sweet doctor was silent for fifteen minutes while he looked around and took measurements. I was already crying when he said that he was sorry, but he just couldn't find a heart beat.

Gah. My heart still just hurts..

I hate that we had to go through that. I truly, truly do. I still can't think about it too much because I can't take it. The emotions are still so raw, still so fresh. Perhaps they always will be.

I was a mother for years before I had Baby Girl. From my very first positive test, I was a Mom.

Those losses do not hold me back. I can't wallow in them. I talk about them because talking about them makes others realize they aren't alone. Because when I went through them? I felt alone. It was awful and it made it ten times worse. More like a million times worse.

We came out on the other side. We have one adorable little girl and our lives and our hearts are so full. She made this family complete.

I'm so grateful to the first four. The ones who paved the way for BG to get here. She has some amazing brothers and sisters.

Everything about them is packed away. It's in a file. I don't take it out and look at it but I don't need to. They're in my heart and in the scars on my belly that show the journey that they took me on. Their scars are right next to the ones that BG left behind. All my kids have left a mark. I love it.

So today on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, I allow myself a little more time to think of them. And to share with you again my story.

I'll also be squeezing my little one a bit tighter and thanking God that after so much loss, He gave me the biggest blessing ever.

Thinking of all the families out there who have lost an infant whether it be by miscarriage or something different. You're in my thoughts.