This is incredibly hard for me to write, but I made a promise to myself that I am going to follow through on. I promised that I will always be completely honest with myself, and with this blog.
As I’m sure some of you have noticed, I’ve been unusually quiet with this blog for the past few weeks. There’s a reason for that.
November 2nd, 2012 was the day I happily discovered I was pregnant with our second child. We were ecstatic. We had been trying for roughly 6 months, and were happy to be able to give Logan a sibling.
I shied away from writing because I just wanted to announce it to the world. Things were going well. I started having the lovely ‘morning sickness’ aka ‘all-day-long-sickness’. And was sure people were going to figure it out soon. We told our families and a few people close to us as we couldn’t contain our happiness.
November 16th, 2012 is a day that will forever hold a piece of my broken heart. That day, I put Logan down for a nap and went to start cleaning the kitchen. When I went to the bathroom, I discovered I was bleeding. Panicked, I managed to secure Nicky to watch Logan while I got myself to the hospital. Mike was able to meet me there.
After 8.5 hours in the ER, 2 different ultrasounds and countless times spent being poked and prodded in my abdomen as well as having my arms stuck with needles for blood work. I was told the unthinkable.
They can’t find my baby. There’s nothing in my uterus. My blood work determined that I WAS pregnant. But no longer am.
The biggest concern was the lack of blood flow to and from my right ovary – indicating an Ectopic Pregnancy [when implantation occurs inside the Fallopian tube rather than the uterine walls]. I was heartbroken and beyond confused. I was barely spotting. How on earth could this possibly be? I was sent home with instructions to come back Monday morning for a much more detailed ultrasound and more blood work.
I spent the weekend in a haze of tears, sleep and what-if’s.
Today was the dreaded appointment. It went as well as can be expected – It WAS an ectopic pregnancy – my right Fallopian tube is swollen indicating that it was there, but my incredible Fallopian tube was strong enough to push it out before it ruptured. For that, I am incredibly thankful.
I am hurting. I am mourning the loss of the child that could have – would have – should have – been.
I had a miscarriage. Don’t ask me to say it out loud – I can’t. I can barely type those words. It’s much more than that. I’ve lost a child. I lost the baby that was supposed to be in my arms around July 12th and that is more heartbreaking than most people can understand.
I’m thankful for all the people surrounding me, supporting me and my family through this tragic time. I appreciate each and every one of you more than you know.
I want to be able to talk about this. I want people to be able to ask me about it. I’m not hiding. The worst thing I could do would to go on pretending nothing happened. I can’t do that. I’m not in a great place emotionally, and I do understand people having the best of intentions, but there are some things that just shouldn’t be said right now.
1) Don’t ask me how I am. I am not okay. I will be – eventually, but that will take some time.
2) Don’t say, “You can always try again”. Yes, I’m aware of that. However, all that does is dismiss the pain I’m currently going through and doesn’t acknowledge the fact that I lost a child. I’m aware I was only a few weeks pregnant, but to me, I still lost a child.
3) Don’t tell me that ‘at least it happened earlier rather than later’ – same reason as above. It’s completely dismissive of how I’m currently feeling.
4) Yes, I have my son. He is my world and I love him more than anything. But that doesn’t change what I’m going through right now. I’m very aware of how lucky I am to have him in my life, but I’m still in a very emotional place right now, as I should be.
Honestly, the only thing you can say right now that I won’t hate is, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
How very softly you tiptoed into my world.
Almost silently. Only a moment you stayed
but what an imprint your footprints have left on our hearts.
We asked god for a baby, instead he gave us an angel.