It's no secret we have 3 outstanding, bright, beautiful children. We've also had 3 miscarriages. The second one was really hard. We were about 12 weeks in when the midwife still couldn't find a heartbeat. She said not to worry but, deep down, I knew something was wrong. I called her after my appointment and told her of my concern. Understanding as she was, she ordered an ultrasound at a local hospital. The tech immediately informed me she couldn't give any results. We would have to wait for the radiologist to read them and send the report to our doctor. (Well, NUTS!) I called my midwife and she, in turn, called the hospital to get them. Not long after, she called me with sadness and told me our baby had stopped growing at 8 weeks 4 days but, my body, naturally, taking longer to catch up, hadn't figured this out yet and everything else, the placenta etc., had grown to 10 weeks.
All my hopes and dreams for this baby, all the wishes and plans I'd made all went out the door. That was the saddest for me, letting go of our dreams. My husband was so excited, he'd already begun telling people (to my dismay). So, to pile more tears on, we had to "un-tell" people.
Have you ever found that it's easier to grieve the loss of someone or some thing by yourself or with the closest to you? I do but, no, we had to rehash our grief again and again and again. It surely didn't make things any easier. I didn't want to hear people say, "I'm sorry for your loss." I wanted to contain my grief in a little box and stuff it way, way under the bed, in the very back corner.
Then, there was the actual miscarriage. We opted to do that at home and not have a D&C, which was a little tricky being that far along. It scared me, I'm not going to lie. On top of sorrow and grief was fear. And then the bleeding. It didn't stop for 8 weeks. My hCG levels weren't falling fast enough and they were worried about that. I kept going back and back and back. I was a mess mentally and physically for a great long while.
Jump to present day and we're here again in the land of sorrow. I'd known that my OB doctor was retiring and so, I'd begun the search for a new doctor. I'd figured out a birth plan. I'd thought about names (though only for a second.) Because my husband and I had been pretending all along that this pregnancy wasn't happening. We were cautious. We didn't dare tell a soul. We even gasped when the other might bring it up at night after everyone was in bed, fast asleep. We knew there was an "if". A chance that things wouldn't be.
Again. I knew something wasn't right. I hadn't decided on a doctor yet therefore, we hadn't seen a doctor but, there were signs. Signs that things weren't quite right. So, after some really obvious signs and a good ahead from my retiring doctor's office (he was away on vacation) I went to the ER. They confirmed my suspicions. This baby grew to 6 weeks 1 day, My body was currently 10 weeks 2 days.
I had a few moments when I broke down. Tears flooded my eyes and spilled down my cheeks but, all along I knew God was with us. I knew no matter the outcome, tomorrow would be bright and full of promise. That he would pull us through. He had in the past and he would again. There's so much promise in his word.