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This day last year was the day before I had the wind knocked out of me. It is all very vivid in my mind. I had gone to my OB for a follow-up sonogram since she couldn't get a good look at Marco's stomach on my regular, routine level 2 sonogram that I had at 18.5 weeks. "Just come back in 4 weeks and we'll take another look. It's probably just the timing. I'm not alarmed or worried.". Those were her words then. This day last year I had a repeat sono at my OBs office. "Well, I do see the stomach, but the baby is a little smaller than it should be and doesn't seem to have grown as much as it should have, but I can't find anything structural to explain it" (or something like that). She wanted me to be seen by a perinatologist the next day. On the referral form that I was to take, the diagnosis was written as IUGR. This day last year I was sitting at my kitchen table Googling (I know, I know...never a good idea) IUGR - intra-uterine growth restriction. I'm a nurse, I knew what IUGR was. How was it caused though? How did it relate to my baby? Scary words popped up on the computer screen: chromosomal and genetic abnormalities. When I saw those words, my stomach sank. I skimmed over them and found something that looked less scary: placental insufficiency. Ah - that must be it...maybe something is wrong with my placenta and the baby isn't getting enough nutrients. They could fix that, right?? This day last year, I still had hope that Bruno and I would be bringing our first born home somewhere around December 18th, 2009 in his little car seat carrier. There was a different plan though. The next day, I would find out that Marco had many abnormalities - either chromosomal or genetic. I would watch the perinatologist stick a large needle in my belly to suck out a sample of fluid that my baby was swimming and living in. Marco looked so full of life that day. Tumbling around. Bruno and I squeezed each other's hands as that needle penetrated and invaded Marco's space, tears streaming down our faces. Scared. On my way home from the perinatologist, I cried harder than I ever had before. I cried out once I got in my car: "my baby, my baby, NO". So painful these memories are. Up until this day last year, it was the normal, naive worries of a first time mom-to-be. I am processing all of this now. I'm in a weird place because from today through the next 7 weeks, it will be hard not to think about all that we went through during those weeks to fight for Marco. At the same time, Bruno and I are working on creating new life and conceiving a new baby. I am just praying for strength and courage right now. Strength and courage. Goodnight my sweet Marco.