Tuesday, February 13, 2018

These Four Words.

These pictures were snapped ten minutes before the wind was knocked out of us and the floor fell out from beneath us.  

I know as I took them we were beaming and I felt like I was finally part of a secret club as I
watched other mamas come out of the waiting room holding their ultrasound photos.

We had been waiting five long weeks to finally have our first OB appointment and see our 8 week and 3 day old baby. I was chugging water and had to pee like a race horse (because Google said having a full bladder made it easier to see Baby B), but I didn't care because I was finally a mama and was about to have a picture of my first baby!

Not many people knew this at the time, but Jake and I had been trying for over a year to have a baby. The year was long and very hard at times, but our faith and hope for our future family was strong. Once we hit the year mark, in December 2017, we decided to seek help.  We met with my OBGYN and began the fertility testing process in hopes of getting some answers and guidance. I remember a huge weight felt like it was lifted off our shoulders after that first appointment because we were now one step closer to having a baby.

We began blood work and scheduling tests and family and friends were praying hard for us in this process.  Two weeks into testing, we had a snow storm and I was off work for a few days, and as an obsessive pee on a stick crazy lady, I tested for the heck of it.  After 12 months and probably $500 worth of tests later, you don't even expect to see the second pink line. BUT THIS TIME I DID!

Once Daddy found out, we spent the next five weeks soaking it in.  We told only immediate family and seeing the excitement and happiness our news brought to them was hands down the most amazing experience of our lives. We loved this baby already, we prayed over this baby daily and September 18th couldn't come soon enough!

I spent weeks 4-6 living off of dry shampoo and Preggie Pops.  I taught 21 six year olds all day and barely made it through the door before I fell asleep.  I cried over anything and everything and drove my husband crazy with my irrational thoughts and complaints of smells only I could smell.  We were happy.  We were full of love. We were bursting at the seams to hear that little heartbeat and get those first photos so we could tell more family and our closest friends.

And then February 9th finally arrived.....remember those first pictures at the start of this post?  The ultrasound tech came out to get us as soon as I had put my phone down.  Jake sat on the green leather sofa as I lay down and lifted my shirt.  The gel was warm and the pressure of the wand and the flicker of images on the black and white screen were the last things I remember before I knew we were no longer part of the secret club I was welcomed into just a second earlier. 

I immediately knew something wasn't right.  I kept silent because I didn't want to worry Jake or distract the tech as she measured and kept looking.  Our 8 week old baby was only measuring 6 weeks.  

And then we heard these four words...."There is no heartbeat". 

I don't remember the gel being wiped off or going into a different room, but I remember not getting handed ultrasound pictures like the mamas in the waiting room had.  Somehow we ended up in a different room and my husband was holding my hand and telling me not to worry until the doctor told us something definite.  I was already crying.  My heart had already broken. The nurses that came in to take my vitals didn't make eye contact with us and my doctor wrapped me in her arms and said "I'm so sorry" as soon as she walked in.  

It was explained to us that I had a "missed miscarriage".  The baby had been lost at 6 weeks, but my body was holding on. We were given our options, and although we were both just concentrating on breathing at the time, we made our decision.  We were sent home with medication to start the miscarriage process. 

I am now in the midst of that process and am not sure what the next few days and weeks will look and feel like.  And, to be honest, I'm not ready to talk about the moments and days following losing our baby quite yet, but I will be. Sharing is healing.  But, more importantly, sharing makes myself and every other woman who has experienced this feel less alone. So I will share and keep sharing, even when its hard.  Not for sympathy or attention, but for love.