I remember fondly, pressing on the right side of my belly just below my ribs. Annoyed at the invasion of her space, Aubree would kick back. I felt bad for annoying her, but loved the assurance that she was still with us. If she could just hold on for three more weeks she maybe had a chance at life in this world. Sadly, a chance that only would have come from another family experiencing profound loss and choosing organ donation, one Aubree would have needed to have been compatible with.
Three years ago today was the last time I left those kicks. The next day I would push on her foot, and she wouldn't kick back. Desperately searching for her heartbeat with a stethoscope would only reveal my own beating faster and faster as the reality of what was happening hit me.
Three weeks ago I felt a familiar rush of panic and excitement as that second pink line showed up. Three days later...it was over; before it really had a chance to begin.
This week I will turn 33. Aubree would be 3. And I wonder about the 3 little ones I never got the chance to know.
They say things come in 3's. Maybe that means someday soon we can get a third little one to join us here on earth. Aly has asked when we can have another baby. She told me since I call her "Pumpkin" and call J "Potato", she wants another sister that we can nickname "Peanut" :)
