One year ago this very exact moment I sat with my husband, my mom, and my daughter right here in this same living room. We laughed and talked about how excited we were that it was getting closer and closer to my scheduled c-section on Feb. 3rd, 2009.
I was so hopeful, and so scared. I was terrified about the "what if's" about David's condition, but I was comforted in the doctor's telling us that he would make it. They didn't know at that time about his lungs, and the way his chest cavity had formed. I was caught in the middle of fear and happiness, but most of all just anxious to meet my baby boy.
One year later I sit in this same living room, hopeful and so scared once again. This room looks the same, it looks like the same family lives here. But they don't. The family that is here now looks the same, but we are different. The father is always trying to be strong, but deep down I know he hurts more than I can tell. The mother is broken, she trys to hide her pain so she won't cause her loved ones more tears. The daughter is sad about having a dead sister and brother. She doesn't understand, and thinks everytime Mommy is pregnant the baby will die.
I pray tomorrow comes softly. We are driving down to where the babies are buried, and staying with my oldest step-daughter. We are going to have pizza and a cake, and let David's sister and nephew blow out his first birthday candle.