Yesterday, at 10 weeks (ultrasound date), I woke in the night and found a little blood when I used the washroom. Due to some other symptoms, it seemed I might have a UTI, so in the morning we went to the ER to be safe. After many hours of waiting, multiple doctors and waiting rooms and tests (all clear), we found out the sad news that our little one stopped growing at 8 weeks. My body just didn't get the message; it's commonly called a "missed miscarriage." The doctors were concerned that I might have some type of infection in my abdomen and rushed me up for a D&C to clean out my uterus. Now I am recovering (in all senses of the word).
We had finally found a nickname this week: Walnut (because of baby's size). We had been "showing" little Walnut the sights on our little road trip. Just started bonding. I convinced myself to buy a few onesies. I thought it was a boy. We finalized our name choices.
We had finally found a nickname this week: Walnut (because of baby's size). We had been "showing" little Walnut the sights on our little road trip. Just started bonding. I convinced myself to buy a few onesies. I thought it was a boy. We finalized our name choices.
We may not have had a chance to get to know this little person, but I believe that he or she mattered. At least, they did to me and Danny and our friends and family.
It's hard to know what to feel. The sadness is so déjà vu...a lot of the experience was too: the bad news, the ultrasound, the wheelchair, the tests, the questions. The emptiness, physical and emotional. The feeling of being inadequate and less than. The anger. I went into this knowing that no one gets a free pass, but I still hoped we would, all the same.
I could keep writing, but it would just be more of this rambling and pain. I don't have the energy for silver linings and gratitude today. I think it will take me some time to find my way back there again. We're heartsick.
No comments:
Post a Comment