There have been some contenders: 9-11, the morning after my last drink, any given day in Junior High, but The Champion so far was yesterday when The Wife and I learned that “Spot” would not be joining us in April 2007.
Evidently, the fetus had stopped living (“died” if we must) shortly after our last ultra-sound. We went in yesterday anticipating a bed-rest order and finding out that somewhere along the line things stopped going as they should. We are getting better now but it was a day and a depth of pain I wish on no one. I know many people have it worse on a routine basis, but for this white American child of privilege it was the lowest of points.
Things are better today as family and friends have been told, offered comfort, and so on. We intend to try again, but with a greater appreciation of how lucky we are when things go the way they should.
I’m leaving Spot’s picture up in my earlier entry. Just because it ended this way does nothing to change how happy we were less than a month ago. I won’t forget the worst days so why should I try to forget the best?
UPDATE APRIL 2008: One year later we are told that our daughter could be born anytime this week. So life goes on, sometimes very happily.
