Swallowed by a whale

I've gone back and forth over whether or not to blog about this. I certainly don't want people's sympathy or pity (there's my cons list), but I also remember many people reaching out to me after I blogged about our first miscarriage and thanking me. Many people told me they learned a lot from our experiences, and honestly, if I can help someone else make it through a similar experience or help a friend/family member help their loved one cope through a terrible time, then that makes me putting our heartbreak out for all to read more than worthwhile. And so with that thought, I've decided to open up about our last 10 days ...

We'd been trying for about four months when we found out we were pregnant again. We were both super excited, but cautious. If we learned anything from our first pregnancy, it was that being blindsided with a loss is just about the worst feeling in the world. So I can say we went into this eyes wide open, but of course I was hopeful. You hear about first pregnancies failing way more than subsequent ones, but the fact remains (via my doctor and midwife) that 1 in 5 pregnancies fail. Being a typically optimistic person, I can see that 80 percent of pregnancies make it, but if you've been through the 1 in 5 before, you know that that 20 percent is a HUGE number.

We asked for, and were granted, an early ultrasound (we did the same thing with Piper) and both felt huge sighs of relief upon seeing the flicker of a heartbeat two Fridays ago. 164 beats per minute. Nice and strong. We had over an hour to wait until the appointment with the midwife so I came home and emailed some of my closest friends. Hooray! We were pregnant again.

I was stupidly confident.

At the appointment with the midwife, she told us that there was a pocket of blood visible on the ultrasound, which concerned her. She explained that sometimes this can be a normal occurrence with the development of the placenta (it was in between one end of the placenta and the uterine wall) that could be absorbed by the body. Or, it could be a sign that the pregnancy was eventually going to fail. Out the door flew our confidence; in flew fear. The good news was that I was really sick - throwing up some days, but generally nauseous and feeling awful from the moment I woke up until I went to bed. The midwife explained that those were hormones at work, which was good. The plan became to do another ultrasound in a week to make sure the baby was still growing. We both knew it would be an incredibly long week of waiting, but regardless of what the outcome would be, there was nothing we or any doctor could do.

Fast forward a few days to last Monday, when all of a sudden, I woke up and felt completely back to myself. No more nausea. No more tiredness. I had an internal freak out, thinking this was a sign that things had gone terribly wrong, but continued to try to be hopeful. After all, I had one friend whose sickness only lasted three weeks so the baby could be fine. Piper and I kept super busy while Reid was working to make the time fly, and Friday was once again upon us.

We returned to the practice and got set up in the ultrasound room. No heartbeat was seen in the first attempt, so we switched to an internal ultrasound for a better view. No heartbeat again - the baby had died. As much as I was somewhat expecting this, it still hurt more than one can imagine. I wanted to be hopeful, after all, we wanted this baby. We planned for this baby. I had an app on my phone to help with trying and peed on an ovulation kit stick every morning for crying out loud. We already loved this baby.

I wasn't able to have a d and c until yesterday morning, and spending the weekend knowing there was a dead baby inside of me was torturous. I wanted it out. I felt so gross. And it was messing with my subconscious and dreams, which made sleeping unrestful and aggravating. Friday night I dreamed that I could already feel the baby kick and woke up with my hand on my stomach and the awful realization that the opposite was true. The next night, Reid and I had an enormous fight in my dreams over a new car. In real life, we were planning on getting a different vehicle since I was pregnant, so the dream clearly had a root in our planning, but in the dream I had to keep yelling at Reid that "the baby was dead! We don't need a new car." Over and over again. I would wake up mad, and sad.

I've had brief moments of sadness, but I know the long road of grief is really yet to come. I am great at suppressing my feelings, but I don't want to do that this time. For Piper's sake, we need to deal with this and move on. I do find writing to be therapeutic so hopefully this will help me in addition to others, but I hate that we've lost another child and that we'll be planting another hydrangea in the spring to go with the one that represents our other lost baby. We threw out the first ultrasound picture we had with "BABY" written on it. I didn't want the reminder of what we had lost, not that I'll ever forget it.

I will say that being sad around Piper is pretty much impossible. She has no clue what has gone on in our lives (for which I'm thankful) and spent the weekend running around our house with a huge smile on her face. Hugging her fills me with warmth. We are so blessed and lucky to have her - and while she does serve as a distraction, she's way more than that. She is the best and I will never take her for granted.