Reliving the memories

Facebook memories reminds me every year around this time of the excitement and anticipation Mike and I were feeling as we waited for our first baby to arrive.  We had furnished and decorated the nursery (painted a very light green as we didn't know if we were having a boy or a girl), packed the hospital bag, unwrapped a stack of diapers, taken and posted bump pictures, unwrapped numerous shower gifts and written thank you notes, and I had prepared sub plans for my new class of 4th graders.

I had one strange test result (low estriol) from my 13 week NT ultrasound, and after some genetic counseling, we decided to follow up with amniocentesis.  The waiting period between the amnio and the results was a little stressful, but all our results came back normal and there was no explanation for my low estriol.  We assumed that whenever he or she was ready to arrive, a healthy baby would emerge.

Every time I look at these pictures pop up, I think, "Wow, you were just a young soon-to-be-mom with absolutely no idea what was about to hit you."

I look back on these Facebook messages and pictures and am slammed hard by the shock of all that unfolded between August 19 and August 22, 2011.  To be honest, it is still really hard to believe that our baby who seemed so healthy and perfect in her first moments of life would slip away from us mere days later. 

I still frequently find myself thinking of Tessa and trying to remember what it felt like to hold her. I still remember the pain and agony of those days in the hospital, wishing we could just take our baby home rather than have conversation after conversation with doctors and specialists, all of us searching for answers.  I still remember the devastation I felt when we first believed Tessa would need to stay in the NICU for about a month. I still remember feeling hopeful after meeting with the surgeon who successfully repaired a tear in her colon.  I still remember staring at my baby through her isolette and whispering, "I'm here, sweet girl.  You are so, so strong."  I still remember being jolted awake by the phone ringing the morning of August 22, 2011.  We scrambled to get to the hospital as quickly as we could.  It wasn't looking good.  I remember the room we sat in as the doctors explained Tessa's current condition and the new complication of a post-surgery infection.  And I remember what may be the most pivotal and heartbreaking moment of our lives, when Mike and I looked at each other after talking to the doctors. Our hearts shattered as we held Tessa for the last time.   

Tomorrow, Tessa would be turning eight years old.  She'd be going into 3rd grade, the grade I currently teach.  While I really try hard to not dwell on the "what ifs," I can't help but wonder what she would be like at this age.  

While I can't help but to relive the painful memories each August, I also feel really proud of what our family looks like eight years later.  I'm proud that we can talk about Tessa to her sisters.  I'm proud that we have friends and family who support us in keeping her memory alive.  I'm proud to have four beautiful daughters.