I'll never forget

Today, October 15th, is National Pregnancy

and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.



Writer's Workshop: Not sure how I got through it.

July 29, 2008, a typical summer day with temperatures up in the 80s and the sun blaring down. It was the fourth doctor’s appointment in one week- four weeks after finding out my dreams of becoming a mother were coming true (after getting my first ever positive home pregnancy test). None of the visits were good up to this day, yet I still kept my chin up high and remained pretty positive about things.

I was blogging to my baby at the time, with the hopes of turning the blog into a book to give to the baby one day. Here’s the entry from that day... the day I didn't think I would get through:

Apparently, it's time for me to say good-bye to you, my sweet little angel. Apparently our time together wasn't meant to be but for a little while. Still, I want you to know, that I loved you from the moment I found out you were in there.

You were created by your daddy and me because we wanted you. Desperately. But it just wasn't meant to be this time around.

We were both very confident going into tonight's appointment; we just knew that everything was going to be OK. We both had smiles on our faces and talked of nothing but positive things.

But I should've thought differently when I noticed that the ultrasound room was open. Instead I looked at your daddy and told him how awesome it would be if we did indeed get a third ultrasound in less than a week and if this time we saw the heart beat. I looked at him and he had a huge smile on his face.

"Wouldn't it be awesome?" I asked again.

Still smiling he said, "We'll high five one another."

A minute later the receptionist asked me to pee in a cup and a minute after that we were being told that the results from Saturday's blood test didn't look good - there was no increase in hCG. The doctor, himself, wanted to do an ultra sound.

We should've known for sure at that moment what was happening, but daddy and I kept our chins up high and believed everything would be OK.

But it wasn't, my sweet angel. You stopped growing. In fact, somehow, you weren't as big as you were on Saturday and there was absolutely no sign of "life."

I managed to ask if there was no chance whatsoever for something to turn back around and the doctor said that in his experience, with all the pregnancies and losses he's seen, he was 100% certain I was suffering a missed abortion.

Basically, my sweet angel, you stopped growing for one reason or another, but you didn't want me to know right away. And as sick as this sounds, I'm glad I got to be your mommy for as long as I did. It was my absolute honor.

The next couple of days will be rough for me...for us, but we'll pull through this. It's going to be OK.

Besides, Daddy promises that we'll still get our high five one day, and I intend to hold him to that promise.

I changed my mind... I'm not going to say good-bye, but rather good night.

XOXO

Reading that again brings me to my knees. A part of my heart died that day. I honestly believe this. I have no idea how I drove home after that appointment (my husband met me with his car and we were an hour from home). The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. My gut wouldn’t stop aching.

The next morning, my husband drove me to the hospital and I had a D&C (surgery) and the next 9 months were some of the most darkest days of my life. I’ve written all about it in another blog. It was my therapy- writing. Without it and my husband, I’m not really sure how I could’ve continued on day after day, month after month. Thank God I did – now – but living in the moment… it’s just something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

A part of me died that day… fortunately (today), it wasn't all of me.

Everything is new

Two years ago a friend of mine found out she was pregnant. And then found out she was miscarrying. Days later, I found I was pregnant...due to have my first baby in March of 2009. Almost a month after that I found out it was over and had to have my baby surgically removed.

My life would never be the same.

I was (nearly) 36.

I was sure I'd never become a mommy.

I was also sure that more than anything in this world, becoming a parent is what I wanted to do, who I wanted to become.

I started looking into adoption.

I wanted to be a mommy so bad and didn't need to become pregnant to do so.

My husband didn't feel my passion. He was saddened by our loss but he was optimistic that I would get pregnant again and still have a baby "of our own". I tried to absorb some of his positivity but nothing helped. I became an angry, bitter bitch. Life was never so dark.

Every month that passed brought reminders of what happened. The surgery left me with burning cramps. And clotting. And heavier periods. And the worst PMS. I tried to mask it all by eating. And eating.

I even cut off all of my hair.

Nothing seemed to help. Blogging about it helped a little because I was able to get all the ugliness out of my head, but being able to read through it whenever wasn't so great.
I never got over my loss.

Even today I still think about it... it's one of the reasons I've been more quiet this week (in addition to the fact that another friend of mine is going through the same fucking thing today). Because tomorrow will be the 2 year anniversary from the BFP. And Lovie's 7 monthday will be the 2 year anniversary of learning about it ending.

July is just not a fun month for me. I'd much rather hibernate in a dark, cool cave for the month.

Except I've been blessed with Lovie.

So I can't go into a cave. I can't hide.

I really am incredibly lucky, you know. Not because of the pregnancy loss and surgery. But because of the life that I do have: Lovie.

She definitely makes everything worth while.

But I can't forget what happened. I can't forget the pain, the heartache.  Something inside of me died that day in the hospital. 

  *****************************************

My dearly departed grandfather used to always ask "What's new?" whenever I'd see him.  And regardless how I responded (which was usually with a "not much"), he always said, "Everything is new because today is a new day!"  This coming from the man that was drafted into a war he didn't want to fight, who had his home stripped away from him, who had his wife and new baby taken away into a concentration camp... (no worries folks, my grandparents MIRACULOUSLY found each other and built their lives back up from literally nothing)

He was absolutely right, you know. Today is a new day and just because two years ago was the start to the best and worst month of my life, doesn't mean today and tomorrow will be a repeat. In fact, it's impossible!!

Because of her. My Lovie. My life. My everything. My daughter.