This time last year, I was into my second trimester and thinking maybe pregnancy wasn't so bad. I'd spent a weekend at Cape May with some college friends and had had a great time. My biweekly OB appointments were going well -- no signs of the preterm labor to come. Our 20-week scan had showed that we were having a girl, and that all was normal. I was having a busy time at work, but it was set to calm down in a couple of weeks. I enjoyed singing really loudly in my car during my commute and I imagined my little girl was enjoying the tunes.
Two weeks later, I was headed to the hospital with contractions and a short cervix, wide-eyed and terrified, where I would stay until January. I spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Day in the hospital. I didn't leave my hospital room for weeks at a time, and left my bed only to use the bathroom. It was a dark, scary time, and normally I don't like to think about it.
But the time of year is making it impossible to push out of my mind.