Saturday, June 18, 2016


Nate and I have been "on the fence" about a third baby for a while.  I say that in quotes because that was usually my standard answer every time I was asked about adding to our brood.  "I don't know.... we're on the fence."

Recently though, we decided to give it a go.  A couple of days before my period was due in May, I took a test - negative.  A couple of days later, another test. Still negative.  Another couple of days after that... you get the picture.  I gave up.  I was well beyond when my period was due so if I was pregnant, it would have shown up.  I knew I wasn't pregnant.  

Then on May 29th, right around midnight, I realized I still hadn't gotten my period.  I took the test and then set it aside on the counter and got on Instagram to kill time while waiting for the 3 minutes for the test to do its thing.  So after falling into a rabbit hole and completely forgetting about the test, I shut my phone off 10 ish minutes later wondering why I was standing in the bathroom playing on my phone.

OH!  The test.  Yes.  I didn't forget.

Yes I did.

I picked it up and looked at it.  It was positive.  POSITIVE.  I couldn't believe it.  I took another test then to be sure.  Still positive!

Of course, just like with the other 2 pregnancies, I woke Nate up and told him that I think I'm pregnant.  Kinda tradition around here, I guess.

Unlike the other 2 pregnancies, we didn't tell anyone right away.  I wanted to keep this one to ourselves for a little bit.

But just a few days later, I started spotting.  Which I told myself was normal.  I did when I was pregnant with Elizabeth, too.  The next day, I spotted a little more and had this horrible back ache that reminded me a little too much of labor.  Awful.

By Friday (June 3rd) I knew.  It was too much blood.  I called my doctor and they wanted me to come in for an ultrasound at 2:30, which was a couple of hours away.  Nate and Anna came with me, while Elizabeth was at her last day of 1st grade.

I cried during the duration of the ultrasound.  Anna kept trying to console me and even gave me Baby's Doggy to hold.  The tech was super nice and tried saying things like, "It could just be too early."  But I knew.

I went to to the bathroom to change and just sobbed.  That was rough.

Then we went back to meet with my doctor, who was wonderful and amazing and compassionate and I love her.

We picked Elizabeth up from her "Grandma" Jeanine, who was able to get her from the bus stop.  Jeanine was the first to know that I was pregnant, and that now I wasn't.

We went home and I took advil for the backache and cried for several days.  I was surrounded by some great friends and family who loved and supported me.

But it still... sucks.  Our baby died.

It was a heart breaking, gut wrenching kind of pain.  Not physical pain anymore, since I was able to take advil.  Now it was an emotional pain.

Based on my last period, I was only 6 weeks along.  It was so early.  I didn't even get a chance to hear the heartbeat.  I have read stories and articles about people who have surely suffered far worse than I have.  Mothers who gave birth to a stillborn baby, or ones that knew early on that their baby wouldn't make it, but chose to carry her to term anyway, only for her to die in their arms. A friend, who is an OB nurse, told me some devastating stories of loss that turned into wonderful miraculous stories later on.  I felt an incredible amount of guilt for being so heart broken when others have had it so much worse.

So then it really hit hard when she said that other losses aren't greater than mine.  That I lost my baby and it is okay that I am sad.

So for now I am sad and I miss our baby that I never got the chance to know.

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