Sometimes miracles only last for but a mere moment… Our angel baby

Butterflies-24

Today was a hard day. We were scheduled for our follow up ultrasound. Today I was exactly 7 weeks pregnant. All morning long I tried to remain upbeat and positive. Hopeful that God would grant us a miracle and that our little one would have grown significantly over the past 7 days of waiting. I prayed over and over again. I put on my lucky IVF socks and t-shirt. I held my lucky tiger’s eye crystal and we made our way to the clinic.

On the way to the clinic Jason chose to play some relaxation/mediation music. We talked about non-related items. I sensed he was more nervous than I was. I had awoken in the morning with some sense of calm. It was a calm that gave me a sense of peace knowing that today we would have some answers. The unknown is truly the hardest part for me. I suffer from anxiety, anything unknown is a challenge. I know that am a warrior, I have been through so much in my life,  once I know what I need to overcome I just do it. But the unknown, well if you don’t know what you have to overcome, then how can you overcome it?

We arrived at the clinic and it was unusually busy. I think in our entire 6 months of attending appointments the most people I had ever seen in the waiting room were two. Today there were closer to 8 others anxiously awaiting their own news whatever that may be. As we were waiting one young women came out very happy and mentioned that she was just waiting for the doctor who needed to check on one thing from her ultrasound before she left. I thought to myself, I wonder if she is pregnant. For moment in time I felt envious of her clearly good news.

Soon they called us back, it was my one of my least favorite nurses. She brought us back to the dreaded exam room #3. That room had so much negative energy that I almost immediately knew this wasn’t going to go well. It’s the same room from the week previously, its the room I was in when I had my first failed IUI and its the same room when I was told I wasn’t responding well to my stim meds. Just a whole lot of negativity. I tried to change my mindset back to positive mode but I quickly began to become upset. Jason was quick to comfort me, he reminded me to take a deep breath and not loose hope.

The doctor came and was fairly somber, she asked how I was and reminded me of what she would be looking for. I laid down and prepared for the news, whatever it may be. I watched as the image came up on the screen. There it was, the same tiny gestational sac, minor growth but nothing inside of the sac. It was empty. I knew then it was over. In that moment I asked for image of our angel baby. Grief washed over Jason as he realized this was the end. We had to say good bye before it ever really began. He wept. I did not. In this state of shock, a numbness had come over me. I switched into my natural ‘survival mode’. I shut off all my emotions and became very methodical instead. I asked questions regarding next steps, I signed paperwork for a D & C (Dilation & Curettage) and I asked what to expect as I recovered from our first miscarriage.

I tried to stay in this ‘survival mode’ as they moved us to a consultation room to fill out the paperwork for the D&C surgery. The nurses tried to comfort us but all I wanted was to go home. I felt cold and numb. Jason, poor Jason felt a loss I’m sure he never could have imagined. He was broken, and I was broken to see him like this. I knew I couldn’t fix it. I am a ‘fixer’ a heart. How could I fix something that was so out of my control. We finished filing out the paperwork and left with an open-ended response that I may or may not miscarry on my own over the weekend. If not, I would return early next week to have everything surgically removed.

Jason brought me home and had to head to work. My heart crushed that he would have to face the next several hours alone with his grief. I knew I would take the time to start the healing process alone, with our loving dogs. I cried. Then I called my mother to share the news. For once in my life I can say she truly empathized with me. I could hear her choking up as I shared the details of the day. She had experienced several losses herself and I could tell this was re-opening old wounds. You see, no matter whether you were pregnant for a week or months, the pain of a miscarriage never truly goes away. The child will always be a part of you. You will never go a day without thinking about the ‘what ifs’. I will always wonder who my baby would have become.

I have already begun to find ways to help heal after this loss. Because thats what survivors do, we pick the pieces and move forward no matter what. When I am ready I will share some of those with all of you. I hope that by sharing I can help someone else in their own personal journey. In spite of all this despair I want you all to know that my faith in God has not been shaken, if anything else it has become stronger. I trust God has a plan for us. One that is even better than we could ever imagine. I trust that when this storm passes there will be the brightest rainbow. I look forward to the day when I can share that rainbow with the world…

Until then, as always, sending you all lots of love, luck and baby dust.

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