We had gone to my parents' town, to church and to tour a home. The realtor and I joked about finding out the sex. She was pregnant too, due about the same time I was. Her daughter will be 5 soon. I will visit my daughter's grave. I felt fine. I had been to the doctor the week before because something didn't feel right but I couldn't quite figure out what. At that appointment, we heard her sweet, precious heartbeat. She was perfect. My mind had been put at ease. All was well for 4 more days.
Today, 5 years ago, was the last day we knew complete, naive happiness. There is happiness now, but there is always someone missing. I don't really remember who I was before. I don't remember what "it couldn't happen to me" felt like.