On September 26, 2013 - 1 year after Kate's original due date - we found out that we had miscarried our baby at 10 weeks 4 days.
Honestly, I knew the baby was gone before we even went in for the ultrasound, there had been signs all week that the pregnancy might not be viable. But, the moment the tech placed the wand on my stomach, it became a reality. It wasn't my first time at the "rodeo" and I knew what we should be seeing on the screen. All there was was an empty space, literally my worst fear in life projected onto a screen. My heart was broken. Our Easter baby was on longer on his or her way.
This was my third pregnancy; second loss since 2010. I've had more unsuccessful pregnancies than successful ones. Bringing babies into the world isn't easy for me. It's an all out fight.
Now I move forward.
I'm working on healing emotionally. Concerning myself with taking care of my body and mind. Recovering from the procedure that removed all trace of the pregnancy, since my own body wasn't doing it on it's own. Grappling with the concept of hope and wondering if I'll be able to not only get pregnant again, but enjoy even one second of it without worrying. Carefully "undoing" all of the projected memories and milestones in my head and letting them go - how I would tell people at work, being pregnant at Christmastime, how long my maternity leave would be, spending a majority of that leave with Adam out of school (so fun!). Being frustrated, hell, even out right angry that I wouldn't have 2 kids under 2 years old (this baby would have been 19 months younger than Kate), that was a spacing in age that Adam and I were excited about.
I'm processing all of this while wondering what the implications of carrying around a broken
heart have on my husband and daughter and friends and family. Trying to be strong for them,
without denying myself a chance to recover from facing this
nightmare.
The upshot?
Everyday gets easier. Taking life day by day and mindfulness saves me constantly. I'm a hell of a lot tougher than I thought I was and I've gained monumental amounts of perspective. Realizing that everyone has something painful they carry reinforces my belief that we need to treat each other gently and kindly. I've got so much gratitude for the blessings in my life. I have a beautiful daughter and I know that I don't really need one more good thing to ever happen to me again because of her - she is enough.
This is just another beginning and I'm looking forward to what the future holds for me. We will, of course, try to get pregnant again and I hope to bring another little soul into the world someday soon. I've got some work ahead of me to heal, but I'm ready to tackle it head on.
This fight and this story isn't over.
1 comments:
Stasi, I read your post earlier in the month and had been meaning to comment earlier and hadn't until I was reminded yesterday. Yesterday marked three years ago that we lost our one and only son. Beth was 21 weeks along when she lost him. It was an earth shattering and heartbreaking experience. Sharing it somehow does help heal, which is where people who you don't expect can open up and tell of their similar experiences.
It was a series of days and months that will live with us forever. I will always remember because it was the only checkup appointment that I ever missed, and I will forever feel guilty for it. She called me from the doctors and I knew right away. I charged out of the office without locking or closing anything and essentially broke down on the 45 minute commute to the doctors. I will forever feel guilty for not being there when I was needed most. We didn't know it was a boy at the time, we were looking forward to her appointment 2 or 3 weeks later when we were scheduled to find out. This was just a brief check up. But they found no heartbeat and when they did an ultrasound to confirm we found out it was a boy. I have always wanted a son, which really made it that much more hard for me. I know now that was our one son, and I have come to be OK with that.
Some of the most painful parts were that we had to go to the hospital to the delivery room where they induced her and took him. We held him briefly, a little tiny figure. It was only 4 hours after her appointment, and we were mostly in shock. It was a blur of sickness, tears, sadness, guilt, concern, everything that you can understand and imagine. It was hardest that we were surrounded by babies and beaming mothers and fathers. We tried to keep it together as she had to stay overnight to make sure she was OK, but we couldn't get out of there fast enough.
Our only consolation was little Olivia. A beaming, beautiful, bouncy year and a half of energy. Who knew nothing except that she loved us and missed us unconditionally. It was her who kept us going through the sleepless nights and tears and heartache.
The doctors said he had a genetic abnormality called Trisomy 13. It was unlikely that he could have survived birth and if he did it was unlikely he would have survived a week. But that made us concerned we were at risk for our future pregnancies. As it turned out it is not a condition that you are genetically predisposed to. Just a bad combination of biochemistry.
We focused on moving forward right away and trying again. We were fortunate that by February Beth was pregnant again. By September we would have Harper. That pregnancy was more nerve racking than even our first, but everything turned out and we have two happy healthy girls, just spread out in age a little earlier than planned, but hey, Olivia is a little older and is a much better helper with Harper.
I thought that you might appreciate hearing our story. It's also helpful for me to share it. I am sure that you and Adam will bring more additions to your family. Wish you guys the best.
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