It is not like I did not have things to blog about. I did. I had posts lined up in my head, some funny, some serious, some frivolous. But I was waiting. Waiting for the right timing. Waiting for another week to tick by.
You see, I was pregnant this summer.
The end of July brought a pleasant (yet planned) surprise.
Baby number 3 was on the way!
I was sick. And tired. And nauseous. And tired, really tired. It was hard to blog about anything besides how tired or how nauseous I was. I could not blog about falling asleep during Elmo's World every. single. day...because people would guess my precious little secret.
We went on vacation. I ate loads of carbs. I took naps every afternoon. Jack and I would talk about the baby. He was insistent that the baby was a girl. He did NOT want another brother. His logic was simple. Why would he want another brother? He already had one. So, now he needed a sister.
My 8 week appointment went great. I had an ultrasound and was able to see the little one and even hear the heartbeat. Everything was great.
Week 8 and 9 I was nauseous from waking till sleeping with no break in between.
Than right before 10 weeks, it all stopped. No more nausea. I thought I had passed that milestone.
Than half way through week 10, I started spotting.
It was nothing, really. Very, very light. It was weird, but I didn't get too worked up.
Than I started cramping. Nothing dramatic, just like I was beginning my monthly cycle.
The very light spotting and the cramping continued through the long, holiday weekend.
I called my OB on Tuesday the 4th and they wanted to see me, just because of the light cramping.
We went into the OB appointment the next day. I was 11 weeks and 3 days.
Ryan came with me to the appointment. I was super nervous, just ready to see the baby. I had never spotted with my two pregnancies with the boys.
We went right into the ultrasound room. I was probably more nervous than I had ever been before. We saw the baby right away. And I saw right away it was not moving. They moved the wand around a bit, but no movement. There was no heartbeat. Nothing.
Our worst fears were confirmed. We lost the baby. Our sweet little one measured around 9 1/2 weeks, meaning the baby had passed away around that time. About a week or so after I saw and heard that little heart beating, it stopped.
We have no idea why. There were no signs or reasons. It just happened. I did not know this till now, but 1 in 4 pregnancies will end in a miscarriage. Most of the times it happens so early that the mother will not even realize it. There was nothing we could have done.
I was scheduled for an early morning D&C that next day. I chose the in- office surgical procedure instead of the hospital route where I would be put under anesthesia. I was awake for the entire procedure.
I was given a drug cocktail that would help keep me calm and to help with the pain. It made me extremely sleepy.
The procedure was very painful. Luckily, I only had the concentration powers to get through the pain and not to think about what was actually happening.
I was sent home and promptly slept for 6 straight hours.
And now the real journey has begun.
The deep sense of loss. The little things that trigger memories, sweet and sad. The little faces of my boys, looking up at me, living proof of what a healthy pregnancy brings forth. Little onesies that come in the mail, also proof of a little life that never will be.
My emotions have also swept a wide gamut. Sad, so sad. Confused. Frustrated. Peaceful. I have not been mad, though. Frustrated at the not knowing the whys and the hows, but not angry. But most overwhelming is the sense of sadness and loss. While only a mere 9 1/2 weeks into creation, our little babe made a deep impact.
The one thing that I realized throughout this whole order is that life is precious. Life is SO precious.
Whether someone lives to be 98 years old and has a full and complete life, or whether you only live 9 1/2 weeks in utero. Each of those lives are precious.
Life is to be protected and cherish.
When I first started spotting, I had swirling thoughts going through my head. Is this normal, is something wrong? Should I freak our or remain calm? Am I over reacting? Than all of a sudden a scripture verse came into my head.
It was Jeremiah 29:11. " For I know the plans I have for you," said the Lord, " Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future."
I have known this verse for a long time. You hear it a lot around graduation times. It is a good verse.
But when that verse came into my head, it was not just a cliche verse said to graduating seniors. It was life to me. MY Lord has no plans to hurt me. MY Lord has given me a hope and a future.
So, while we go though this grieving period, I know that my hope and my future belong to the Lord and that gives me all the peace in the world. It doesn't take away the loss. It doesn't take away the sadness or the what could have been, but I feel at peace and I am not angry. I can't explain why I am not angry, but I am not. It has been because of the prayers of people around me.
Life will go on, and things will return back to it's semi-normal state. Time will help ease the sadness.
But we will always remember this precious little life, that I was lucky enough to have, even for a few short weeks.