I haven’t needed this space in some time. One day I just ran out of words that needed to spill out and so instead I just come back here to read your words. I cheer you on and watch as lives continue to unfold, just as mine does. Watch children grow up in pictures, as mine does. Maybe we get comfortable as we go through the rough times and come out on the other side. We think, I went through my shit, I get a break in life now, I think. Then life decides otherwise for you.
A year ago we made the decision to sell our home we had built five years prior. A decision we were happy with because we had purchased a larger lot. So we moved our whole family into a very tiny home and started building a new home on the land. We also made a decision, way back when we listed our home, to toss the birth control and see if life would just give us a break. Our daughter has been relentless on wanting a sibling and we figured we could try.
We went on with our lives. Flipping the little house we are in, starting our new home, and me trying to tackle my problem of not knowing what to do when I grow up.
New Years Day 2020 the two little pink lines showed up and proved that somehow we got a little Christmas magic and managed to get pregnant, without help. Just at three weeks and somehow it all felt perfect. My doctor was just as shocked as us but the blood work just coming back perfect. We would be in the new house before the baby came. The relief I felt over the fact that this was it. This would complete our family and we could move on in life. We could quit planning around fertility and the unknowns. We managed to do this on our own. Maybe life had a funny way of working out. We were cautiously optimistic. We told our close friends and family. We told our daughter who was a level of ecstatic I never dreamed about. She called the baby Roo and said we could give it a new name when it was born.
We went to the first ultrasound and everything was perfect. We bravely took our daughter to the second ultrasound and everything was perfect. We went to the third ultrasound, the last appointment there of the day. Joked all the way back with our doctor. Chatted about how the house build was going and if we should get a new puppy while we were at it.
Then everything wasn’t perfect and that eerie silence settled in. At nine weeks my baby on that screen wasn’t moving and no one had to say anything because we already knew. Our doctor couldn’t choke out the words and we all just cried.
We all just sat there fucking crying.
Because here we were again. Another dead baby for no fucking reason.
From the measurements, our baby died three days after the second ultrasound.
We scheduled surgery for the next day, Valentines day, because why not ruin that day for all its worth. I don’t work Friday’s or Monday’s so the timing is well, what it is.
Then we went home and did one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life. Sit down and tell our four year old child, who has spent years begging for this sibling, that the baby died. I never want to live that moment again in my life. She threw her little body on the living room floor and instantly began sobbing. She was inconsolable. She begged me to fix it. She was pissed. She had all of the same emotions we had. To anyone who thinks that she might not fully understand, she does. She gets it. She wanted to know why the baby wouldn’t have a birthday close to hers? Why couldn’t she hold the baby when the doctor got it out? Why couldn’t she say goodbye? Why did her friends have a baby that didn’t die? Why does Nana get our dead babies in heaven because she had her own when she was alive?
No one slept that night. I stood in the shower and thought the same thoughts I did the last time this happened, this is the last night I will hold this baby, tomorrow I will come home empty.
The next day we dropped our daughter at daycare and drove to the hospital. We went to the same floor, to the exact same room, they asked the same questions and we signed off on the same parents lines in regards to what to do with our baby’s remains. We watched the clock tick by and I waited for my turn to go back. I welcomed the drugs they gave me to knock me out and my doctor went back to inform my husband how my body just doesn’t let go. She used the same words last time as well. Then they woke me up, handed me my paperwork, sent me back through the lobby where others had their arms full of new babies to take home, and we drove home to pick our big girl up.
We spent the weekend/Monday crying, getting angry, I drank a lot, cussed a lot, cuddled my kiddo, tried to answer all of her questions, ordered her books about miscarriage from Amazon, let her buy whatever the fuck she wanted from Target, and put a deposit down on a puppy. My husband and I went out to dinner to try and feel normal. To talk. To determine what is next. We had already made some pretty big decisions based around our baby and the future so we now had to decide how to change that. We were just so fucking optimistic.
We felt what we needed to feel and didn’t hold back as much this time. We were straight with people when we told them. Straight about what we need in this exact moment. We have been honest. No tip toeing to make it easier on others this time. When people say the stupid fucking comments that yes, I know they might mean well, I correct them. No, don’t tell me to be grateful that I have one kid because then please tell me what kid you would give up. That isn’t how this works. I’m sure there is a reason and what is meant to be and please shove all your well meaning words up your ass I’m really pissed and sad right now.
Now, just like that, I’m back at work today. At my desk. Where the only person who knew I was pregnant is on vacation. I’m surrounded by people, in an office, that I fucking despise, trying to not cry and trying to just distract myself. Still bleeding, bloated, and cramping because that is the reminder you get. When I set my out of office last Thursday I had no idea how my weekend would go. Just like that I live in a before we lost the second baby/after we lost the second baby world. And I know we will get through this and I know it will get easier and I know we will be okay but right now we are none of those and we are just really fucking hurting.