“What if it snows?” I asked Den earlier this week as he prepared for his 2-week work trip. “It won’t snow!” he replied, with his typical confidence. It had been nearly 60 degrees out for several days. I had gone without a coat once or twice.

He left saturday morning.

Saturday evening it snowed.

::

Last night was a christmas party, a fancy formal event. I realized I actually like these things. I like getting dressed up fancy like I never would normally. I like good food (sadly this one fell far short of the “good,” but it was fair). And mostly, I like just being around people that I know, listening and joining in on conversation. This is not something I ever would have expected of myself, 10 years ago. And to be fair, I still really need alone time to re-center myself, I am far from a social butterfly. But once in a while it is nice to just be in the company of others for a little while, to hear the stories and laughter and friendly teasing. And now I feel like I have something positive to contribute.

However, it is extremely obvious to me that I much prefer being in the company of those who know my full story. Over the last few nights I’ve been seated with people I don’t really know and will probably not run into again until next year’s party. Plus my bump is to the point where it is semi-obvious to people – they glance at my belly, then to the water I’m drinking, then back to my belly… but they aren’t quite confident enough to bring it up yet. So we ended up mentioning it a lot, this bump of mine and the baby within.

Again we got the inevitable, “Is this your first?” For the occasion we just said, “Yes.” Like I said, I’m not likely to run into them again, I’ll only have to converse with them for one night. But that one night can be quite trying. I got to hear the women tell me all about how pregnancy will go later on. I already know. I had to be careful that I didn’t accidentally slip and say, “Compared to last time…” Then I’d have to explain. I didn’t feel like explaining. So I just smiled and nodded.

But by far the hardest thing for me was the couples telling me how joyous it is to have your first child, how wonderful it is to raise a child, and just how much we will love it. They didn’t know – and I didn’t let it show – but those words cut at my grief. I really had to struggle to stay present with this baby and the future we will hopefully have, because my mind kept wandering back to my memories of Devin and the joy and hope we had for him. How HE should have been our first baby in the house, our first lessons on diapers and crying and wants-only-Mommy. What we lost. So I smiled and told them I’m sure it will be wonderful with this baby and hoped someone else would pick up another topic in the lull.

This is why I tell people this is my second, if I will be seeing them again. The telling is harder, and conversation is far more awkward, but at least people are mindful. I can only handle conversations about “our first” for one night.

::

Many times during the night people would say, “How’s the baby doing??” And I honestly had NO idea what to say. Still alive, I think? Having a great time, though I really can’t feel much yet? Your guess is as good as mine? I opened and closed my mouth a few times before just saying, “Fine, good. Yep, good.” It just seems like such an odd question for someone who is only three and a half months pregnant. And it left me wondering how the baby REALLY was.

When I got home at 11:30 I layed in bed with my laptop for a little while. Right away I started feeling movement. This time it wasn’t a little poke or two, this was like a full-out rumble in my belly like Devin used to do. Except… it feels so muffled, like it’s underwater and all I’m feeling are ripples. Like when your stomach growls and rumbles – but this was down low, and it just didn’t stop. It felt so alien, a little creature tickling me from the inside.

But the true pisser of having a previous loss is that I layed there and thought, But what if the baby’s dead and I’m feeling something else entirely? The movements are so vague still. One minute I’m feeling reassured that at least the baby is alive, then the next I’m wishing I could hear the heartbeat just to make SURE that’s true.