The dress

March, 2006. We had an 8 month old baby. Mr. Kiss and I had a rare date night out for his birthday. Some drinks, home to pay the babysitter, and then some rare nookie (like I said – 8 month old baby). Fast forward 2 weeks, I’m pregnant. We were SO not ready it. The baby was a crap sleeper. It was busy season for me at work. Mr. Kiss was building his empire at his own job. A new baby wasn’t planned – yet. But, we knew we wanted 2 kids eventually, so once that shock and awe wore off, we were happy. Thinking “We can totally do this!” The non-sleeping 8 month old would be 18 months when the new baby arrived, too young to know we rocked his world but hopefully walking and becoming a lil more independent. We decided to just accept it and get ‘er done.

In April, we had a friend’s wedding to attend. One of Mr. Kiss’ college friends. April in New England can mean snow or sunshine, so the dress had to be functional. All weather and hide the tiny belly that was already expanding. Why does the belly do that w/ the second kid? Expand all early and shit? Damn.

So the dress had been found and I have to say, it was perfect. Springy, complimented my skin tone…I even got the shrug to go with it so I’d be presentable in church.

The morning of the wedding, I was getting my hair done and felt…I don’t know…not right. I have picture of me that day, taken by the stylist, with a gorgeous updo and a big smile. Funny, the things you remember when you look back at pictures. I got home to tell Mr. Kiss that I felt like something was going on, I was spotting a little bit, and felt crampy and didn’t know what to do. We talked about not going to the wedding – but I figured why sit home and be miserable – the wedding would be a good distraction.

Turns out that us going was a blessing in disguise, we were in Cambridge and my doctor was in Boston. I had to leave during the ceremony due to heavier spotting. I just sat in the car waiting for Mr. Kiss to make an excuse for us. I called the doctor, who said that I was “most likely having a miscarriage” and that we should go to the emergency room. There I sat, alone in a green Chevy Blazer. In a church parking lot. I was crying a little bit and I guess saying good bye to a baby that wasn’t initially wanted. Did I cause it because I felt that way?

We got to the emergency room and watched the comings and goings. I wasn’t in critical condition, wasn’t dying, so I was lower priority. There was a sick toddler. An old man in a wheel chair. And me, in a beautiful dress, losing a baby. No one knew what I was there for. How could they? But I sat and prayed and held Mr. Kiss’ hand. When I finally got back to a room, I was given scrubs to wear and the dress was shoved into a bag, along with my swanky shoes and clutch. We had to call the babysitter and tell her that I was in the ER and we weren’t sure when we’d be home. She’s a friend and I told her what was going on…which was the first time it set in that I was no longer pregnant.

Once you’re given that news – that clear medical news – that the pregnancy has terminated, they still have to do tests and ultrasounds and blood work…which, really? Just let me go home already. Hours passed and we were finally told that there were no more physical signs of the fetus and were released.

The physical aspects were gone. Just like that. But it takes a while for the emotional signs to fade. I’m not sure they ever fully do go away. What would that kid have done in this world? Boy or girl? Would Big Kiss have been close with him or her? Would the baby have red hair like Little Kiss now does?

Anyway, just the other day I saw the dress. I was cleaning and there it was, still in the hospital bag, in the back of my closet. I have no idea what to do with it. Can I donate it? Knowing what IT went through that day? Do I wear it again? I have no idea. I guess it’s the last physical sign I have that I was pregnant in March of 2008…and I can’t give it up yet.