Life

This was supposed to be the big reveal.  The exciting news we just could not keep to ourselves.  It was supposed to include a blurry ultrasound photo accompanying a Facebook post saying something like "Life is about to get a little more crazy!" or something better.  I was still thinking about the wording.  Unfortunately, it ended up being a different kind of post all together.

But I want to tell you about it, even though it is deeply personal, because I want everyone to know about the life we loved so much and lost so early.  I found out I was pregnant mid-July.  We had been trying since December.  I realize that is well within the average time it takes to get pregnant, but for anyone who has ever tried, anything more than one month feels like forever.  I had morning sickness.  Bad.  In fact, that was the reason I finally decided to take a pregnancy test.  I felt a very familiar terrible and thought "hmm...maybe I should just check."  And sure enough!  Three tests later I was convinced.  We couldn't get in to see the OB/GYN until last Friday.  I wasn't sure how far along I was, but was estimating somewhere between 10-12 weeks.  We went in for the appointment and went through all the preliminary questions, the vitals, stepping on the scale...we even started talking about what kind of birth we were picturing and whether we were interested in going for a VBAC.  When that was finally through the doctor said, "Ok, now for the fun part" and led us to the ultrasound room.  I knew something was wrong almost as soon as the wand was on my belly.  The doctor's whole demeanor changed.  He kept moving it around and when I asked "Is that it?  Is that the baby?" his response was "well, that's the pregnancy."  And then he told us there was no heartbeat.  He said baby measured at about 8 weeks.  To his credit, our doctor handled everything in the best possible way.  He was compassionate, did not blink when I burst into tears, and left us alone as much as possible.  He scheduled the D&C for later that same night, even though I am sure he probably had better things to do on a Friday night.  We left the office and went straight to my Mom's house, where Elliot was staying, and I clung to her (my Mom, not Elliot) and cried my eyes out.  Mom cried too, and prayed with us, and said all the right Mom things.  Since it was still a few hours before I had to check into the hospital we took Elliot home and had a really nice afternoon together, just the three of us.  I am not being sarcastic.  It really was peaceful, tinged with sadness, but still a wonderful family time.  When it was time to go Elliot went back to Mom's and Erik and I went to the hospital.  Everything went smoothly, I had little pain afterwards and was mostly just tired.

The last few days have been a blur.  It is a strange kind of grief.  I feel fine and then all of a sudden I feel terrible.  It feels like I have run out of tears to cry, and now only the sadness remains.  My body feels great, which also feels like a betrayal.  Without the baby there is no more morning sickness.  I feel better than I have in over a month, and that feels wrong.  I regret complaining so much about the morning sickness, because I would choose 9 full months of morning sickness over this.  I hate that I still touch my belly out of habit.  I can't bring myself to take all the maternity clothes out of my closet.  I am reminded that it is only 3 days later, and all of these feelings are normal, that there is no right or wrong way to grieve, but that doesn't make me feel better.

The only thing that makes me feel better is my daughter.  Elliot is like a bright, shining star of energy and light.  She makes me laugh even when I am at my lowest.  She forces me to carry on when all I want to do is wallow.  My heart goes out to every single family who has been through this, but most especially to every family who lost their first child and had no amazing toddler to come home to.  That would be infinitely more difficult.  I am so, so thankful for Elliot.

I know we will get there.  That it takes time.  Until then we are leaning on each other, our family and friends, and, of course, our faith.  Rest in peace, Baby Rammelsberg.  We loved you so much and can't wait to see you again.