Again

Wednesday, March 3, 2010, started like any other normal day. The kids all had colds. We did school that morning. I helped them get their lunch and then I went to the bathroom. Everything had seemed fine until then. It wasn't a lot of blood and I tried to convince myself that it didn't mean anything was wrong, but I couldn't stop the panic I felt. In my head, I kept saying, "Please, not again." But I knew without a doubt what it meant. It was happening again.

I guess I should have called the doctor once Chad got home, but I just couldn't deal with that part yet. I knew there was nothing they could do and I wasn't ready to see a baby with no heartbeat or hear someone say out loud what I already knew . So I waited until the next morning.

It was strange to be in the same place with the same two women as 10 days before and know the results would be so different. Once the picture came up, she said she needed to take some measurements. I lay there thinking how strange it was that neither of them mentioned the absent heartbeat. After measuring for a couple minutes, the doctor finally said that there wasn't a heartbeat anymore and that the baby was only measuring a couple days bigger than at the last ultrasound.

When I got home, Colin immediately knew something was wrong with me and started asking questions. It only took a minute for him to ask if it was about the baby. The worst part was having to look into my 10 year old's sweet face and cause him so much sadness again. We had wanted to spare them this time in case it happened again. We waited until I was 8 weeks and had seen the heartbeat on the ultrasound. Unfortunately that wasn't long enough this time. I was 9 weeks 2 days when the bleeding started; 10 days past when it started the other time. Just long enough to start thinking it was going to work out this time.

The day after we found out, Caleigh asked me, "Mom, why do the babies inside you end up dying?" I told her I didn't know and that I was very lucky that my first three babies didn't and are so healthy. I find myself often wondering the same thing as Caleigh. What happened?  What went wrong? How could I have 3 heathy pregnancies with healthy babies and then have 2 pregnancies where there is something so wrong? We'll probably never know the reason and it's hard to not know why.

Can you miss someone you've never met?

It's very hard in the beginning, but then life goes on and you have to go on with it. Things seem to get easier. Then you may see something or hear something to remind you and the hurt hits you like a ton of bricks again. Today is a day when my grief hits me all over again.

I had a miscarriage in June. The week I spent waiting to know for sure was very difficult.  Hearing my children, who knew nothing about what was going on, talk about the baby. Seeing a newborn baby in a restaurant.  A waiting room filled with pregnant women. An ultrasound showing a baby that was too small. After all that, I just wanted to have someone officially say it so it could be over because then I could get on with my life. Once I got the phone call to confirm it, the depth of my sadness over this baby I had only know about for a few weeks was shocking to me. I had never seen this baby and didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl. I thought once we knew for sure, things would just go back to normal. That's not what happened though because I am not the same. I can't just forget it. I always feel as if something is missing. It doesn't matter that I never met him/her. I had already thought of what the baby would be like, how he/she would fit into our family, the changes we would all have to make, and what it would be like to have a little one again. There was already so much excitement and planning.

After a while, the hurt isn't so close to the surface anymore and things are easier. For months, I had to avoid the baby department in stores and even now, I can't linger there.  I sometimes now make it weeks without any tears over our loss, but the sorrow is always there waiting for some trigger to bring it back to the surface.

Today is a day I've dreaded since the moment I got that phone call. I've tried to tell myself it's just a date on the calendar and ignore it, but I haven't been able to do that. Today would have been my baby's due date. Today I should be holding a newborn or preparing for the arrival of one. Today should be a happy day. January 19 will never be just another day on the calendar for me. It will always be a reminder of the child that we lost. It will always be a reminder that you can miss someone you've never met.