There’s something that happens as soon as you see that “+” come up on a pregnancy test. The daydream instantly begins. 10 fingers. 10 toes. The first smile. The laughs, tears, games, arguments, swim lessons, soccer practice, first days of school, prom, college, wedding, it all flashes before you eyes. As. Soon. As. You. See. That +.
Then you start Pinteresting nursery ideas, thinking about names, maybe even start a registry. Maybe you tell your mom and/or best friend. AND YOU KNOW you’re not supposed to buy anything, tell anyone, or do anything to get ready for baby until that first ultrasound appointment. BUT you just CAN’T help it!
And it ALL happened to us. We had been trying to get pregnant for 7 months. So we were ecstatic to see that “+.” Finally! Joe was going to have a little bro/sis. And because our first pregnancy went fine, we had a really hard time keeping our mouth shut and we starting daydreaming and planning right away. His nickname is Lenny. I was hoping for a little brother for Joe.
And then it happens. I started spotting. Weird. THAT didn’t happen before. I had a consult with Dr. Google and he said, “This can be normal.” But I’m still freaking out. It kept going so I called my OBGYN. And they said the same thing, “This can be normal.” And even though I tried not to, it was panic, panic, panic. Everyone tells you it’s normal, to stay positive, but I knew something is wrong. I didn’t “feel pregnant” anymore. Which is a concept that I can’t explain. Maybe it’s a hormone change. But I just didn’t “feel” Lenny anymore.
So the spotting continued and I went to ER. I was 9.5 weeks pregnant and 3 days away from my first ultrasound. 3 days from telling the world – or least making it Facebook official. But I found out I wasn’t going to get to tell anyone else. A bunch of really big words later I found out that Lenny was dead.
People say things like, “Don’t worry, this happens to 20% of pregnancies.” Or “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Or “at least you didn’t carry the baby longer and have a still birth.” I know the statistics. And I agree with everything people say. But my heart is still broken. Sometimes I just want to be mad, throw a fit, and yell. And scream. And cry. My poor little fella will never take his first breath, his first step, his first day of school, his first car, his first date, and it goes on. All those sweet daydreams from the last 9.5 weeks became pure torture in my heart.
I lost Lenny on July 4. And then I lost him again when my body passed him out a few days later. I still cry for him. I think I always will. Are the statistics true? Yeah, probably. And do I have a TON to be thankful for? Absolutely. But I’m going to go ahead and and continue to grieve. Be mad. Throw fits. Say my prayers. Try to find peace in that he’s in heaven playing with his Granddad.
If this ever happens to you the only real words of comfort I have is that you are not alone. Call me and I’ll cry with you.