Two years ago today was the day I found out that I was going to lose (had already lost, really) my first pregnancy. It was the Monday after Mother’s Day. The day after the day I had spent blissfully ignorant of what was to come. The day after what I thought was my first Mother’s Day as a Mommy to be. Rich gave me a card and took me to Janie & Jack (only like my favorite kid’s store ever!) where I picked out a tiny little newborn nightgown in light green that had a little pea pod and “Our little sweet pea” embroidered on it. It was perfectly gender neutral choice appropriate for my 9 weeks of pregnancy. I brought it home and carefully hung it in the closet of the future nursery.
The next day Rich and I headed to my OB appointment. I had had an ultrasound at 7 weeks that showed a wonderful heartbeat. However, my little peanut only measured at 6 weeks. In my naivete, I believed my doctor when he said this was mostly likely no big deal…we had a heartbeat and that’s what mattered. He did want to do a follow-up ultrasound at 9 weeks just to make sure the growth was proportionate. Hence, the reason Rich was with me. I wanted him to see for himself that flickering little heartbeat of our baby. When they started the ultrasound, I knew immediately something was wrong. The first time, the doctor pointed my baby out to me immediately. That day, it seemed to be taking forever. Honestly, in those 2 minutes, I knew. I remember saying in my head over and over “Please show me my baby. Where is the heartbeat?” And then the doctor said words that I will never forget. Until my dying day I will be able to picture this moment of my life. She gave me that “I am about to deliver bad news” look and said to us “I am sorry Mr. and Mrs. H, but I don’t have good news for you today.” She didn’t need to say anything else, I knew. I knew in that instant that my little Christmas baby, the one that had been planned and loved since the minute two little lines on a pregnancy test showed up, was not to be. Everything after that was a blur...the doctor finished delivering the news. It was something to the effect of “You are 9 weeks, we should be seeing a heartbeat today and I just can’t pick anything up.” I just remember grabbing Rich’s hand and sobbing “Rich, no! Please, no!” The doctor left us alone and I sobbed. Rich told me later it was so loud, the entire office heard me…for sure. I just remember saying over and over again “I can’t do this again. I can’t ever go through this again.” I remember feeling like I was watching myself go through the rest of the motions. Discussing options with the doctor, walking out of the medical complex, the drive home, Rich calling his boss to tell him he wouldn’t be in, calling our parents, laying on my bed and just sobbing, clutching that little nightgown I had bought just the day before and soaking it with my tears…it was an out of body experience.
Over the next weeks and months I went through the normal grief process...fluctuating between anger, frustration and hope for the future. It certainly would have been easier to deal with if I had known in 2 years I would have a day filled with diaper changes, shoveling pureed foods into a 1-year old's mouth, walking up and down and up and down (and up and down again) our driveway because it makes a newly walking toddler very content. I wish I could have known I was be oh so grateful to my husband for sending me out to an afternoon of pampering at the spa, followed by a play date with some wonderful ladies I have met through Joseph. A play date spent taking complete and utter joy in watching 1-year olds splash around some water
and push each other around in toy cars
and just burn off in energy on a beautiful spring day.
Yes, if I could have seen this day 2 years ago, I probably would have shed a few less tears but that's not how its suppose to happen.
Note: At this point you are wondering "What the heck does she have that kid wearing?". Let me explain. About 5 minutes into playgroup, Joseph decided to stuff his face with about 10 goldfish crackers. For the most part we are over that whole gagging and vomiting ordeal when he eats. However, apparently when he stuffs too much food in his mouth, this is still a problem. He gagged and then proceeded to vomit all over himself. Luckily, being the hyper-prepared, anal retentive mom I am, we had a change of clothes in the diaper bag. Not exactly a great looking outfit, but enough to allow him to stay and play.
4 comments:
I didn't even notice Joseph's fashion faux pas through my tears.
Much love to you. As much as I hate that we both had to go through those heartbreaking ultrasounds (and that terrible "bad news" doctor face) and all the misery that followed, I am so grateful that through the awfulness of miscarriage, I found my BIFF. And we BOTH came out of it with our sweet boys! It just doesn't seem possible it's been two years. I actually remember "meeting" you and just aching for your loss.
So thankful for all the joy in your life today with your oh-so-cute little goldfish spewer.
OK, I just bawled my eyes out. My m/c was the Friday before Mother's Day, and I've been thinking about it A LOT over the past week. I'm so glad that 2 years later, you, me, and Mandie all have our little boys. Sometimes the grief still hits me like it did this week, but I know that without it, I wouldn't have Aidan.
It makes me wonder what is Joseph's purpose in life...because everything happens for a reason and without that very unfortunate event he wouldnt be with us. Who is he? What is he to become? What will he do in his life? While it's all to much for me to comprehend, the ride sure is fun and i couldn't ask for better partners on the roller coster.
We don't know what God has in store for us, we just have to trust in his guidance and love to know that everything will be OK. That day two years ago was the hardest day of my life too.....seeing my child in pain, and knowing there was nothing I could do to make it better other than wrap my arms around you and Richard to let you know how much I loved you.
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