A woman's body is a marvelous thing, when you think about it. Within her life has the ability to grow, and her body is willing to nurture this little invader even at the cost of her own needs, if needed.

Already having 4 children, my body was a bit of an ol' pro at it. So when we decided to try for one more late in 2003, I thought nothing of it. I had baby fever, I'll admit it. Then in March of 2004 we suceeded! I was so happy. I started combing through baby name books, rubbing my tummy, and planning for our December arrival.

It's funny how one can get a bad case of the "it'll never happen to me"s. My mother had had many miscarriages. The statistics say 20% of all pegnancies end in miscarriage. That's one in every five. This was my fifth pregnancy.

The worst part of it was it happened April 6th. April is just a wirl-wind of emotions for my family. On the 26th is my son Corbin's birthday. On the 9th our wedding anniversary. And on the 7th in 2000, my mother died. We had already booked a family vacation to celebrate our 10th anniversary that weekend. We still went. I spent the month on autopilot... somehow I passed off as normal. Inside I was dying. How could my body have done this?

As I slowly started to come out of the fog, I put together a keepsake box. I didn't want to forget this little life that I never got to see, but still nurtured for weeks. I even named the baby Remmie, for remember.

In June I sat looking at a pregnancy test showing a positive at 3 in the morning, in shock. I was happy, but I would never have the carefree joy that I had with the other pregnancies. Worry was the new name of the game.

In a way, Remmie has taught me a lot. I can relate to other women who have had the same loss like I never could before. Somehow I understand my own mother better now. And I realize even more just how precious life really is, and to enjoy every part of it, no matter how briefly it lasts.