Wednesday, May 11, 2016

And Then There Wasn't

I know I don't blog much anymore. But this one is important. And hard.

On Monday, I was 9 weeks pregnant. Then with four words, "There is no heartbeat," everything changed. Our little one's heart had stopped only a few days earlier at 8 weeks, 3 days. We had seen an appropriately sized embryo just two weeks earlier with a strong heartbeat. And once you've seen a baby at that stage that's alive, you immediately know when you're looking at one that... isn't. Scott and I knew right away that our baby was gone before the technician could even tell us.

From the beginning, I felt things were not quite right. My intuition told me my lack of symptoms were not benevolent. And with near constant spotting since I discovered I was pregnant (even though Dr. Google says it's normal and common in many pregnancies), I knew it spelled trouble. And unfortunately for us, my intuition was right.

I never wanted to be a statistic, and never thought it would realistically happen to me. Who does? I'm talking about it now because I don't want to stay silent. I want people to know I'm sad, not just tired, and I want them to know the reason why. Why I don't want to make small talk. Why I'm not smiling all the time. I don't feel ashamed or embarrassed. In fact, I wish I had told MORE people we were expecting, so they could have shared in our joy of being pregnant, and then help support us through this loss. Although the hardest part for me was telling our son that he would not be a big brother in December like we had talked about. Luckily he is four and will never remember this. But his sadness and disappointment is very real at this time.

I found out I was pregnant SO early - at only about 10 days after ovulation, it feels like I've been pregnant forever.

The only picture we have of our second baby.

I've known several family members and friends who have had miscarriages, but I've only ever thought about it in an abstract way. Now I realize my silence on their loss is more hurtful than saying the wrong thing - something I always feared, so I just kept quiet instead. But I get it now. And I'm sorry for my lack of communication to those women in the past. When you know better you can do better. And I will do better from now on, because I am fundamentally changed by this experience. I will never be the same person I was before.

And now we're faced with existential questions. Do we try again? Start over? Or is this just the way our family was meant to be - just the three of us? I feel in my heart that it's not, but I know that my plans for my life don't always match the universe's plan for my life. Our lives. I've known women who have had 2, 3, 4... 14 losses. And those women are stronger and braver than me, because I'm already afraid to put us through this again. Even though I know, again statistically, that one miscarriage does not increase your risk for a future loss.

At least I have this blog, so there is a record. A record that there WAS a baby. That we celebrated and then mourned. And now we try and pick up the pieces and move on.