Tuesday, September 6, 2011 was my baby boy's first birthday. It was a day filled with pride, wonder and accomplishment that he, as well as Andy and I, made it through an entire year. For the most part, we're all in one piece. That was also the day I found out that I was pregnant again. We have been trying for another baby, sort of. What I mean is, we were trying, but neither of us thought in a million years that it would happen so soon.
After the Positive, I stood in shock for a minute, just repeating, "Oh my god," over and over again. Then I took a picture of the test and sent it to Andy and Mom. Momma was very excited to be a Grandma again. Andy didn't find out until later because his phone was dead (due to an unfortunate canoe accident a few weeks ago). He called early in the afternoon, and was shocked but happy at the news.
That day, I stopped smoking completely, bought and started taking prenatal vitamins, and went gluten free. I did everything I was supposed to do. As the day went on, my fear of being pregnant again and of being responsible for 2 babies had diminished quite a bit, and I was excited. Very excited. My head was filled with daydreams of baby names and squishy little cheeks. The nicotine withdrawal was kicking my ass, but I was determined to get through it. I had a new life to take care of, and that's what mattered the most.
This morning, I abruptly woke up around 6:30. I felt it the second I regained consciousness. Blood. Please Be Wrong Please Be Wrong Please Be Wrong I chanted in my head as I stumbled to the bathroom.
I wasn't wrong. There it was, bright red and terrifying. I knew what had happened but I couldn't admit it to myself. I paced the house and fought tears until 7:30 when my doctor's office opens. I called and got the earliest appointment they had. After dropping AJ off with Mom, I rushed to the hospital. (Well, I tried to. Every slow, idiot driver was between here and there). After sitting in the waiting room for an eternity, I finally got to see the doctor. She was nice, listened to what I had to say, and after a brief exam, sent me to radiology for an ultrasound. Once there, I waited another eternity (And with a full bladder this time. Loads of fun.) So I finally get back there, where they did an internal and external ultrasound. I couldn't tell what was on the screen, and the technician wouldn't tell me. It was all just blobs in various shades of gray. He sent me back to the doctor, and she confirmed what I already knew. What I had known since the instant I opened my eyes this morning. I had lost the baby.
At this point my memory gets a bit hazy. Throughout the morning there had been slight cracks in my mask of self control, and at this point it crumbled completely and I broke down. I tried to hold it in and couldn't. The doctor was very compassionate. She said something about it probably being a chromosomal abnormality, but they couldn't know for sure. I had already expelled most of the "products of conception" (Could there be any colder of a term for an unborn child?) and would not need a D&C. She gave her apologies, said I could sit in the exam room for as long as I needed to, and was gone. I'm not sure how long I sat there. It may have only been a few minutes, I'm not sure. At some point I got to the car. And then I lost it again, and started the drive home. I managed to call Andy at work, and asked him to come home. I hadn't told him anything yet. I should have told him sooner. I know that. I should have called him as soon as I got up this morning, but I just couldn't. I was holding out a shred of hope that I was wrong, and everything was fine.
Fastforward to now, after pretending on and off all day that I'm ok. I cannot find the words to describe the depth of pain I feel right now. I have suffered 2 miscarriages prior to this one, and both were devastating despite not knowing about the pregnancy before it was too late. But this one seems worse. Physically, it hasn't been bad. The other 2 were excruciating. This one is not. But mentally, I am not in a good place. I feel like a ghost, walking around in my house, with my family, but not really here. I'm lost in my own head. I can't fight the overwhelming feelings of guilt. Maybe it was the cigarettes I smoked before I found out. Maybe it was because of one of my many health problems. Maybe it's because I went on a ride last weekend at the fair.
I feel like a failure. The one thing women are supposed to be able to do, and I can't do it. What the hell does that say about me? I'm failed at what I'm supposed to do in life. I am lucky and thankful to have the beautiful son that I have. Maybe I'm just being selfish to think I deserve to have that luck twice.
I'm sorry to my husband, for not giving him another child; to AJ, for not making him a big brother; and mostly I'm sorry to the Baby for not being able to sustain its Life.
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