So imagine my shock and horror when there was no heartbeat. I asked if anything was wrong, already sensing there was but hoping for the best, but the ultrasound tech confirmed my fears. Nothing. The baby had stopped growing and there was no heartbeat. I could not believe it, and as I waited for the doctor to come in, I kept wondering if it was a dream. I finally decided it wasn't, b/c I couldn't add the level of detail that I was experiencing to a dream. Unfortunately, Tim was home with Oli. For our earlier two ultrasounds, I had made him come with me. Since receiving news of Oli's diagnosis alone a few years ago, I haven't had many (any?) ultrasounds alone. Once again, I had to face a devastating diagnosis alone.
We had already told the kids about the baby after seeing the heartbeat at 7 weeks, and Mac was so excited. I was dreading telling them, when I could barely keep it together myself. Tim took the lead and told them, simply, that the baby had stopped growing, so we couldn't have it. Mac seems to be processing it in her own way, and even Oli seems to understand a little.
In addition to the emotional pain, miscarriages come with physical indignities that make the process so much worse. I opted for a D&C, since my body hadn't begun to recognize the miscarriage after two weeks. Having to go in to the hospital and have surgery felt awful. Knowing that they were physically taking the baby away and I would have nothing to show for it was so painful. Still feeling and looking pregnant b/c my body hadn't recognized the miscarriage yet kept me in some sort of denial limbo where I knew everything wasn't okay, but there was the smallest part of me that thought it might be. Oli's pediatrician actually asked me if I was pregnant the day before the D&C, b/c I was "too skinny to have a belly." Um, thanks?
Having to bleed out what was left of the pregnancy over the next few days sucked. Still having a pregnant belly almost a week later sucks. Knowing it won't go away for a month sucks. Losing the boobs I was hoping I could keep as a consolation prize sucks. Anticipating the holidays knowing that the baby would have been here a week after Thanksgiving sucks. Not being able to keep it together when I am alone for more than a few minutes sucks. Being afraid that I may have lost the chance to have my last child sucks. Not being able to hold or meet my little one more than sucks.
I have good friends who have been through this and they told me it will get better. I know it will. I made it longer today, than any other day, without crying. Tim has been amazing, although I am constantly in fear of being too sad and alienating him.
I am sad beyond words (although clearly I found some here). I want to be better. I want my baby.
