We were having a baby. The whole thing seems a little surreal. Having had 3 healthy, uneventful pregnancies, I think we stupidly assumed we were immune to tragedy.
We went in for an ultrasound at 12 weeks. Walking in to the room, we were laughing and joking with the tech. He went to the same university I did. We continued our conversation as he set up. He turned on the screen, put the stick on my belly and stopped talking. My heart sunk. I knew. Of course, I knew. Where there should have been a beating heart, there was nothing. Finally, he confirmed what I already knew. The baby had died about 4 weeks before.
In the 4 weeks before we discovered our baby had died, I had suffered from all the typical pregnancy symptoms. I had even been to the ER for IV fluids because of my excessive morning sickness. There was absolutely no indication that this was coming.
I knew nothing about miscarriage. I didn't know that I would have to carry my baby until it came out. I didn't know I'd have to choose how that would happen. I didn't know that my body would continue on with its pregnancy symptoms until it caught on that there was, in fact, no baby. I had no idea.
We chose to wait for the miscarriage to happen naturally. It took 6 days after finding out. Those were the longest and most awful 6 days of my life.
On Tuesday, I started feeling cramps. Desperately hoping that it was time, I called Ryan.
I was blessed to have it relatively easy on the physical side. There was about 30 minutes of hard contractions. Also something I didn't know; miscarriage is more than just a heavy period with a little cramping. For me, it was just like labour.
I sobbed through every contraction. Where contractions had previously been a thing of joy, bringing me one step closer to my baby, these contractions brought me one step closer to good bye. And I wasn't ready.
After the baby was born, I sat in the bath tub and cried. Ryan just held me. It felt like his arms were holding me together while I wasn't strong enough to do it myself.
I thought that it would be easy to say goodbye. I'd had 6 days to prepare. It wasn't easy.
My amazing midwife came over after. She showed us our baby. I saw the head, the spine, tiny arms and legs. So tiny. I had been afraid to look but now I'm glad I did.
Since we said goodbye, I've had good days and bad days. In my typical way, I joke about things and try to act as though I'm fine. But I 'm not fine. Not really. In my heart, we are supposed to be a family of 6. I look around and feel like someone is missing. My arms feel heavy with the baby I will never get to hold.
But life goes on and I throw myself back into routine because there is comfort there. My kids need me and I need them. There peace in kneading bread dough. There is joy in making necklaces with Brooklynn. There is clarity in waking up before everyone else and just sitting still.
Each day is better. I hope that one day, I'll go the entire day without crying. But I will never stop missing my baby. And I'll never forget.
