why am i here?

Mostly the reason I'm here is that I like to write. Putting my feelings out on paper gets them out of me. I write when I am full of excitement, when I am full of sorrow and when I somewhere in between just trying to figure it all out. I've been writing about my life since the 6th grade and I have about 30 journals sitting on a shelf in my closet filled with my petty troubles and my big moments of the last 20 years -- everything from my first kiss to my wedding day.

Unfortunately I am now in the middle of a sorrowful time and I've written so much in the past week, my hand is actually starting to hurt. I've decided it might be time to make the switch to electronic.

So here I am. And here's my story. I lost my baby. I was 9 weeks pregnant and I lost my baby. I am 31, healthy, happily married, and wanting more than anything to start a family with my husband.

I find myself in the Operating Room yesterday moments away from an abortion. The doctors call it a “d&c” but it is, in fact, the same procedure as an abortion. My husband is standing next to me as I lie on the table, and we both put our hands on my belly and we whisper good-bye to our baby. I like to think of myself as passing from innocent to experienced in that moment, although I don't wish an experience like this one on my worst enemy.

I don't even begin to understand what kind of devastation this will bring until the day I find out I am pregnant. You can’t grasp the loss until you understand the gain. My baby is the size of a pinto bean and I love it more than I've ever loved anything. It is part of me, created by love and actually living inside of me. A heart is beating inside of me. I worry about miscarriage. I am petrified. But my husband keeps telling me everything is fine and it is time to start enjoying this new life. So we do. We celebrate the news with family and friends. We bring tears of joy to our parents. We think of names for our baby. We buy it a blankie. My husband sings lullabies to my belly every night.

And in a moment, the dream is gone. The doctor tells us the baby’s heart is not strong. It is not developing properly. It will not survive.

My husband and I are dealing with our loss, and we are very hopeful for a healthier pregnancy at some point down the road. We understand this is nature’s way.

This doesn’t lessen our devastation, though, and what I can’t understand is why our story has to be a secret. When a family member dies, you welcome the support of all the people in your life. You grieve with them standing by your side. But when the baby growing inside of you dies, you lock the sorrow inside your house. You walk around in the outside world as if nothing has been lost. I don't get it. So I'm done keeping this a secret.

I was 9 weeks pregnant and I lost my baby.