Thursday, August 20, 2009

8 weeks and 2 days...

I thought the next time I wrote, it would be to announce that I was pregnant, a surprise to everyone, including myself. After years of wanting another baby, it was finally happening! Another member to add to our chaotic family; a boy with Chris’ big blue eyes, or a girl with my curly dark hair. Maybe his name would be Bishop, after Chris’ dream, or I could name her Adrian after my grandfather. Either way it was a baby, one that we had prayed for and hoped for, for so long. I was pregnant.

For 8 weeks and 2 days, I was pregnant. Blissfully, joyfully pregnant. My body began to adjust, requiring that I nap by 2 pm out of sheer exhaustion, achy, swollen breasts, and even a slight baby bump appearing in the last week. But then all too suddenly, it was gone. I’m not sure how I knew, but when I woke on Sunday morning, I did…our baby was gone. There were no outward signs to cause alarm, no cramping or bleeding as you hear about from other mothers who have experienced a miscarriage. Even Google assured me that the light pink on the tissue paper was nothing outside of “normal”. Despite my worries, I tried to carry on with my day as though there was nothing wrong, but by the end of the afternoon, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I shared with Chris my fears and we held to one another, praying that I was wrong.

After a restless night of sleep, I awoke thinking perhaps it was all just a bad dream. There was no more pink, no aches, but still, a dull sense of reality that I did not want to face. The doctor’s office assured me over the phone, that once again this was normal, but to come in anyways. Congratulations were offered all around, by the receptionist, the nurse taking my blood pressure, even the nurse practitioner who was over seeing my case. Smiles were abundant; “no need to worry”; “we see this all the time”. Chris, try as he might held on to the hope that everything was fine. To set our minds at ease, we were taken in for an ultrasound. Lying down on the table, a screen was in front of us, set there for all the anxious mothers, holding their breath, waiting to see their babies for the first time. Yet I didn’t want to look, scared of what I might or might not see. But then, there it was, our baby. A small bean floating inside its protective sac, perfectly formed….only, this baby, my baby, had no heart beat. I didn’t cry at first, not saying a word, I watched as the tech took picture after picture of my precious gift, but when she turned on the sound, to listen, in chance that she has missed something, I could no longer hold back. “There’s no heartbeat” I stated, not really even asking. All she could do was shake her head no. I don’t remember much else at that point, except for Chris’ arms holding me as he tried to console me, my entire body shaking.

Days have passed since that moment, and yet it seems as though it was just minutes ago. I’m not sure why this happened, there will never be an answer. It doesn’t seem fair to offer someone something that has been wanted for so long, only to take it away after such a short amount of time. 8 weeks and 2 days. You can lose 25 lbs in 8 weeks, you can even get a degree online in 8 weeks, but most importantly, you can bond with an unforeseen soul that grows inside you. I know, because I did. A friend told me a story she heard, one told to children to help with their own grief when their mother miscarried, one that I have since shared with my own boys. When a baby is made, God gives it the choice to continue growing and join the family, or stay in heaven and pray for their family. The ones that leave us all too early, are never actually gone, they are waiting for us above, praying for the family that they belong to. That’s where my baby is, and I just have to take my hurt, my pain, and my anger and push it aside, knowing that I was pregnant, that I did have a baby, and now that baby is watching over all of us, praying.