February 12, 2004 should have been a fun day. Instead, it was one of the worst days of my life. I had tickets to see a live show of A Prairie Home Companion, which I love and listen to often on the radio. Instead of seeing the show, however, I was admitted to the hospital. I was 24 weeks pregnant, diagnosed with severe preeclampsia and told that my baby would be delivered within days and probably wouldn't survive.
Fast forward to February 12, 2007. It was a Monday, and I went about my business as I do each Monday......taking my sons to school, teaching my band class, picking the kids up, taking one of them to speech therapy, etc. Typical Monday, I suppose. The date didn't ring a bell in my head, I didn't think anything about it all, believe it or not.
It was February 22 before I realized it. Like a lightning flash, I thought "Oh my goodness, I didn't even think about the significance of Feb. 12 on that day"! This is the first year since it all happened that I haven't thought about it, remembered it, written about it, etc. Obviously, we've come a long way since then, and my son is about to celebrate his 3rd birthday in March. We've got the typical day-to-day stuff that most families deal with.........soccer practice, laundry, work, school, etc. And, we've got 2 former preemies, one who's on the autism spectrum and has a lot of therapy and doctor appointments to keep us busy. So I guess it's no wonder that I "missed" the anniversary of my hospitalization 3 years ago. But, I can't help but think it's another sign of progress----beginning, EVER so slowly, to move past the experience. Maybe just a little.