563 and counting...

I read Carol's blog today and posted this comment:

It's been 563 days since Isabella, 226 days since Sean.

Then after getting emails of other comments made to her post, I wrote in another comment:

I hope my previous comment wasn't taken the wrong way. I have never really counted the days since I lost Isabella or Sean, I was curious when I read Carol's post, so I counted. I don't feel like my case is worse because I'm waiting longer than some (definitely no where near as long as others) or even because I've had multiple losses. It's a bummer for me because I felt like I hardly got to be pregnant those times and I feel like I might have gotten a little bit more respect from my crappy family had Isabella or Sean lived just a little longer. If I had had a baby shower, had a nursery set up, expected to go into labor and take them home with me "any day now". But I never got there. I don't want to say that I'm jealous of Carol's experience with Charlotte because that just sounds wrong. I just wish I could have felt them move, held them, touched their hands, kissed their faces. I just wish I could have been their mom.

I thought I would post it here because it seemed like I should. Those last two sentences say it all for me. It’s because I never got to do any of those things that I practically feel like I never was pregnant at all. I was passed over. It didn’t count. That’s what makes me so sad. That’s what makes me cry when I think about it. There was no outward change, no fresh paint on the walls, no diapers in a drawer, no rounded belly to prove they existed.

Nothing but some blurry ultrasound pictures and a line on a home pregnancy test.