The other day I stumbled upon one of the saddest stories I'd ever read. It was on the blog of a mother who'd lost her daughter at forty-one weeks gestation. She went into labor, but the hospital sent her home because she hadn't dilated. Shorty after, the baby died in her belly. Can you imagine? Carrying your child past your due date only to deliver her dead? The story haunted me all day and night. I had terrible dreams about miscarriages and dying babies.
Then I woke up the next morning, only to find that I had started spotting.
Oh, right... I forgot to mention: I was pregnant. Surprise!
As someone with little patience, I took my first pregnancy test four days early, only to be surprised and elated to find two, pink little lines.
Pregnancy test from Thursday:
Hooray! Willow was going to be a big sister! Well, probably. It was still very early. I managed to find the patience to wait two more days and tested again.
Pregnancy test from Saturday:
Still positive! I wasn't just seeing things. I told Steve and we were both extremely excited. We even sat down and discussed names, and (sort of) settled on a handful of boy names we mutually agreed on. Same with girl names. In a matter of a few days, I'd already taught Willow to say "bebe" when I asked her what was in my belly. I couldn't wait for my stomach to grow bigger so she could better understand that there was something in there. I did the Ancient Chinese Birth Chart and it predicted we were having a girl. Her due date was May 19th, 2012. Yes! A warm weather baby! (Well, maybe. I'm pretty sure it barely made it to thirty degrees this past May.)
Monday came and went (the day I would have started my cycle), then so did Tuesday. I was really pregnant. I told my co-workers due to pregnancy-related job restrictions but I wanted to wait a few more days to tell my close friends and family. I'd planned to do so on Friday.
Only it's not Friday yet. It's Thursday. And Thursday I had a miscarriage.
It's been a difficult, emotional day and part of me is writing this and wondering if I'm even writing about me. I read all kinds of stories about miscarriages, but my pregnancy with Willow was so perfect, I didn't think this would ever be a part of my life. I keep looking at those positive pregnancy sticks thinking, "I WAS pregnant! He/she was in there just a few days ago!"
Only when I test again, this is what I get:
I know early miscarriages are common. 10%-20% of pregnancies result in them. And I suppose I'm lucky that this happened at five weeks instead of forty-one weeks.
Still, five or forty-one, I lost my baby. My little jelly bean is now just a statistic. I am deeply grieving this loss.
Luckily I have a beautiful girl to keep me going...
As hard as this is, I need to focus on my daughter that is alive and well, here in my arms. She will get me through this... and she will have a little brother or sister. Someday.
R.I.P. little jelly bean. I hardly knew you, but you'll be in my heart forever.