I don't think I'll be getting dressed today. As if the heartbreak isn't enough, I am cursed also with severe-doubled-over-in-pain cramping. And my husband is still out of town. I lie in bed in the middle of the night moaning in pain, wanting nothing more than to be taken care of by him. But he isn't here and I don't want to call and wake him. What is the point -- there is nothing he can do and why should he have to lose sleep too. So I lie here alone and realize this -- even in the strongest of relationships, the happiest of marriages, the purest of love, there will still be moments of bare-boned complete and utter loneliness. This is one of those moments.
I have another one of these moments a few weeks ago and that's really where this nightmare begins. The day I know. It is the day of my first ultra-sound. I am exactly 8 weeks. I know this because I have been charting and know the exact date we conceived. My husband and I are filled with hope and excitement -- I get to see my child for the first time! Unfortunately he has a meeting and can't come with me. We make the decision that I should keep the appointment. If there are two of them in there, I will call him right away. That is our biggest concern.
I explain to my boss why I have to leave for yet another doctor's appointment. She hugs me and congratulates me and hugs me again. I promise to be back before my lunch break is over. I walk into the doctor's office shaking with nerves. I know this day will change me.
I just don't know how much.
At first the nurse points out my baby on the screen and lets me know that that little flashing light is its heartbeat. My baby has a heartbeat!! It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The tears start rolling. I am going to be a mother. I can't wait to call my husband.
And then something happens. Her face changes. She squints to see the screen and says, "hmmm." Then she turns off the machine and says the baby's heart-rate is a little bit slow. She wants me to come back in a week and take another look. She's not too concerned, though, because the baby is measuring only 6 weeks and 2 days.
My heart drops. I am 8 weeks and I am sure of it. Something is very very wrong. She assures me I must have my dates mixed up. She brings out the little wheel and shows me -- I conceived on October 7. I remember that date. It is the date my husband came home from his camping trip -- the date I told him we were having a baby. I already had four positive pregnancy tests by October 7. Something is very very wrong.
The next 2 hours are a blur. I call my husband 42 times. I think eventually he will guess something is wrong and pick up the phone. I don't know he has it on silent. I go back to work to get my stuff, sobbing so hysterically nobody can understand me. People are hugging me and they didn't even know why. A little girl on her way to the bathroom looks up at me with shock and terror. She has never seen her teacher cry.
I don't know how I am driving. Through my tears I see nothing. My ground has dropped. I am drowning. Finally I am home, doubled over in grief on the couch. I don't even bother to take off my coat. Where is my husband? It is the loneliest 2 hours of my life. I try to stay calm for the baby but I can't even breathe. Something is very very wrong. He finally walks in the door and he holds me as I collapse in his arms. Everything is going to be alright, he tells me. I want to believe him. But I don't.
There is nothing to do but wait. We pray and stay optimistic and tell our baby over and over again how much we love her and want her to grow strong for us. We promise her the world. I sleep every night with my hand over my belly. I drink lots of milk. We beg God to take care of her.
Back at the doctor's office one very long week later -- my husband at my side -- we learn her fate. She has not grown. Her heart-rate has slowed. There is no chance of survival. He bows his head. The breath I've been holding for a week comes out in a long sad exhale. There are no words for this kind of devastation.
But at least this time I have his hand to hold.
I have another one of these moments a few weeks ago and that's really where this nightmare begins. The day I know. It is the day of my first ultra-sound. I am exactly 8 weeks. I know this because I have been charting and know the exact date we conceived. My husband and I are filled with hope and excitement -- I get to see my child for the first time! Unfortunately he has a meeting and can't come with me. We make the decision that I should keep the appointment. If there are two of them in there, I will call him right away. That is our biggest concern.
I explain to my boss why I have to leave for yet another doctor's appointment. She hugs me and congratulates me and hugs me again. I promise to be back before my lunch break is over. I walk into the doctor's office shaking with nerves. I know this day will change me.
I just don't know how much.
At first the nurse points out my baby on the screen and lets me know that that little flashing light is its heartbeat. My baby has a heartbeat!! It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The tears start rolling. I am going to be a mother. I can't wait to call my husband.
And then something happens. Her face changes. She squints to see the screen and says, "hmmm." Then she turns off the machine and says the baby's heart-rate is a little bit slow. She wants me to come back in a week and take another look. She's not too concerned, though, because the baby is measuring only 6 weeks and 2 days.
My heart drops. I am 8 weeks and I am sure of it. Something is very very wrong. She assures me I must have my dates mixed up. She brings out the little wheel and shows me -- I conceived on October 7. I remember that date. It is the date my husband came home from his camping trip -- the date I told him we were having a baby. I already had four positive pregnancy tests by October 7. Something is very very wrong.
The next 2 hours are a blur. I call my husband 42 times. I think eventually he will guess something is wrong and pick up the phone. I don't know he has it on silent. I go back to work to get my stuff, sobbing so hysterically nobody can understand me. People are hugging me and they didn't even know why. A little girl on her way to the bathroom looks up at me with shock and terror. She has never seen her teacher cry.
I don't know how I am driving. Through my tears I see nothing. My ground has dropped. I am drowning. Finally I am home, doubled over in grief on the couch. I don't even bother to take off my coat. Where is my husband? It is the loneliest 2 hours of my life. I try to stay calm for the baby but I can't even breathe. Something is very very wrong. He finally walks in the door and he holds me as I collapse in his arms. Everything is going to be alright, he tells me. I want to believe him. But I don't.
There is nothing to do but wait. We pray and stay optimistic and tell our baby over and over again how much we love her and want her to grow strong for us. We promise her the world. I sleep every night with my hand over my belly. I drink lots of milk. We beg God to take care of her.
Back at the doctor's office one very long week later -- my husband at my side -- we learn her fate. She has not grown. Her heart-rate has slowed. There is no chance of survival. He bows his head. The breath I've been holding for a week comes out in a long sad exhale. There are no words for this kind of devastation.
But at least this time I have his hand to hold.
4 comments:
From one nestie to another, my heart grieves for you and your husband. I have found that writing the blog helps me to get my feelings out rather than hold them in and I admire your strength. I just wanted you to know that you are in my prayers.
~Katie (futuremrsmikea)
My heart is breaking while I'm reading this. Our story is very similar to yours, and I can't imagine how hard it was for you to be at the first u/s without your husband. I'm so so sorry you're going through this. You are both in my thoughts and I hope that the coming year brings you happiness. Take care.
Tamara (lovelifeinthesouth)
My heart aches for you. I have been there and I know how horrible it is to call your husband's phone so desperately from the dr's office and he does not answer. I am so sorry for your loss.
Maria
MKC101103
i'm reading through your posts again as i'm home sick w/ a COLD! i'm pretty sure i caught something at the hospital on friday. lose a baby, catch a cold! gee, thanks.
anyway, this post is me.
i knew when we conceived. yet i was measuring small. she said we conceived two days before i was due for my period. i've always been 28 day cycles. even after stopping the nuvaring in october. my cycles continued like clockwork. so, i'm pretty sure i did not ovulate later than usual.
it's amazing how well we know our bodies. how well we know when something just isn't right.
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