Instead, I got a stab of panic when he found that the baby was measuring small for the time frame. It was supposed to be my 11-week check-up and the baby was measuring at 9w2d. Then, I got abject terror when he couldn't find a heartbeat. Then, I got numbness when he said those two little words: "I'm sorry." It was a terrible, terrible day.
I know that today is not that day, but even a year hasn't dimmed the memory, the pain or the heartache. It is all still there, just under the surface.