Well, it happened.
The dreaded thing every pregnant woman fears and no one wants to talk
about. We lost the babe.
We went to the doctor the day before thanksgiving excited to
hear a heartbeat. I was hoping for at
least one “bean” picture to share during the big dinner, showing off exactly
what I’m most thankful for this year! Turns
out I was 8 weeks and 3 days pregnant but our babe stopped growing around week
6.
I don’t know what’s more difficult: knowing I was carrying
around our dead baby for 2+ weeks in my belly or feeling all the “could have
been” “should have been” “might have been” moments we’d created in our heads
and in our hearts and just having to let them die too. See it’s not just the baby we are grieving,
it’s our futures we were dreaming about.
This whole life we’d created in our heads revolving around this little
bear. The lack of sleep we were joking
about dreading. The nine months of
sobriety I would constantly complain about.
All the diapers and the breastfeeding and the nursery. The baby shower and showing off my belly in
the cutest maternity clothes I’d already started to shop for. Holding our baby, the epitome of our love for
each other embodied in the single most important person on the planet.
We are going to Costa Rica in a month and I bought a new
bikini specifically to show off my huge boobs and my slowly growing belly. Now it’s just a bathing suit. We cleared out the spare room to start making
it a nursery for our baby. Now it’s just
an empty room. I have to keep the door
shut because it breaks my heart every time I walk past the emptiness of
it.
Some days I’m ok! I
can go to work and have my routine and don’t focus on the heaviness that such
an empty spot can leave in your heart. But
the emotions inside, they are so close to the surface - it’s like I’m walking on a thin sheet of
glass and one wrong word, one sad song, one holiday commercial I didn’t change
in time and it starts and I just can’t stop.
All the hurt and anger and sadness just come pouring out of my eyes like
a faucet and I physically cannot stop crying like a two year old in a candy
store who can’t have all the chocolates.
It’s been a week since the surgery and I don’t know that it’s
any easier today than it was getting up that morning knowing where I was
going. I try and put on a brave face,
and most days I can accomplish that. I had
2 solid days last week where I didn’t lose my shit and I considered that a HUGE
win! And then it hits, like a ton of
bricks, and it holds on and squeezes your heart and it’s all you can do to just
keep breathing.
And even though we are already talking about trying again,
there’s a part of me that is dreading it.
Getting that positive test will never be the pure unadulterated joy that
it was the first time. Going to the doc
to hear the heartbeat will be a day of fear and anxiety instead of a day filled
with hope and happiness. I hear that
once you hold your baby in your arms all the heartache we feel now will be
worth it. It will heal.
But it’s such a huge hole.
I don’t know how someone ever gets over this.
Trying to stay positive, though! We have my post-op appointment tomorrow and
are going to get a plan together to move forward. Close this chapter and start a new one. Try again as soon as I’m healed and healthy
and able.
If there’s anything at all positive that I can take from
this, it’s that I know I’ve found the absolute love of my life. He’s the reason I went through all the (what I
thought was) heartache, all the terrible first dates, all the awkward dating and
misery and bitterness that goes along with it.
He’s never wavered with his positivity and hope in this whole situation. He’s put up the most beautiful Christmas tree
and decorated our house with the best Christmas lights on the block! We’ve watched Christmas movies and wrapped
presents and are even having a party next weekend. He’s held me up when my knees gave out, and
lifted me up when I was having a not-so-bad day. And I know that our baby will be the most
beautiful baby I’ve ever ever seen. And I
am hopeful for that day.
I will not lose
hope.
