Six months ago today was the worst day of my life.  I witnessed an accident from very close range while out running and I watched someone die.  I’m not yet allowed to put in writing all of the details, as the trial hasn’t yet happened for the individuals involved.  But there isn’t anyone who can tell me that I’m not allowed to say that I still feel grief about it every single day.  There isn’t anyone who can take away the memories of ripping my phone from my armband while screaming as I called 911.  Or remembering the whole thing play by play or remembering how the scene looked and how it seemed like time stood still as I stood feet from two lifeless bodies, feeling seemingly alone and very much helpless in the situation.  Stunned.  Thinking that this can’t be happening.  At that moment, you wonder if you are dreaming.  And then people begin to stop and help and you see that one of them is breathing and one of them is not–and the victim is the one who is not, and you stare and can’t believe the injuries she’s sustained and they burn into your memory–injuries that no one should have to sustain, and then you pick up her phone and hold it because you feel like that means you are holding her life in some way and she now becomes more real because you know that she likes purple since her phone case has purple designs on the back and then the ambulance shows up in slow motion four minutes later and you finally turn your back and try to call your husband, except you can only get out something horrible happened before you completely finally break down, wondering how you even kept it together for the 911 call, and you somehow manage to tell him your location, though he still doesn’t even know what happened because you make no sense and then you hang up with him and some stranger angel lady wearing a yoga tank top asks if you are okay and gives you a hug, and you just sob and sob and sob with big heaving sobs while you tell her over and over again that you just saw someone die.  And that’s the nightmare that I live now, with the memories.  Six months ago.

But the truth is also that, though I was also in danger at that moment, I am still alive.  I need to not take that for granted.  And the Lord turned the memory of July 29th from a day of loss to a day of new beginnings for me. Because I am pregnant.  And out of all of the days that can possibly be my due date, my due date is July 29th.  I’ll be having a scheduled c-section though, so the baby most likely will not be born on that date, but more like a week before that.  But still, you always remember the due date of your children, so I will forever remember that date as both something that is incredibly life changing, in a not so good way, and also one that has hope and promise as well.