>Another one bites the dust…

>Another pregnancy that is.  Crap. What a crappy, crappy day we had yesterday.

Things have been fine – no complications (that we could tell, anyway) at all.  About a week ago I started feeling like I was getting more energy and not feeling as sick.  Many people encouraged me to not worry about the fading of my pregnancy symptoms – that I was just getting closer to the 2nd trimester.  It’s true – it happens for most women that way.  They were right to encourage me. But apparently our little baby had died.

Without boring you with gross details, I became a little concerned yesterday, so I called my doctor.  He said he wasn’t worried, but that his schedule was a little open yesterday, so he had me come on in.  He tried to find the heartbeat, but couldn’t.  Still not worried, he sent me for an ultrasound so we could get some peace of mind.  We went for the ultrasound, and were devastated to see our little baby there – no movement, no heartbeat, nothing. Just laying there like a dead baby in a balloon or something.  It was horrible.  I will never get that picture out of my mind.  We went back to the doctor, sobbed and made plans to have a DNC next week.  Not looking forward to that surgery at all.  I have only been put under once, and that was when my wisdom teeth were removed.  Not only will I be out, but the procedure will be much more – ahem – INVASIVE this time.  Ick…

I feel awful.  Physically I feel fine, but emotionally I feel awful.  If we had the means and wherewithal to pack up and move far, far away, I think we might.  I want to run away from all the sideways, half-smile condolences we’ll be getting over and over and over again now.  The hugs and the “I know it’s going to happen for you” and the “next time don’t tell everyone so early” comments.  I am barely handling my own grief – I can’t stand to have to handle everyone else’s too.

The first miscarriage was covered in peace – for a time anyway.  This one just feels raw.  Unfair.  I feel foolish for letting my body trick me once again into believe that we might be getting to have children.  I feel foolish for letting myself get excited, even though I am well aware of my history.  I feel like we are becoming “those people” who never have kids and who spoil their nieces and nephews rotten.  Not that “those people” are bad or anything – far from it.  I know many of “those people” who are my favorite people on the planet.  It’s just not what I want!

I look at my husband and I marvel at the amazing man that he is.  I know that he would be a fantastic father.  I long to be able to give that gift to him, but so far I have been very incapable of doing so.  It just hurts.  It hurts beyond words.

So that’s where we are.  I’m not sure how this is going to go for us.  I have a feeling this grieving period might be a doozy.  I’m just so angry about it.  I’m trying to stay distracted, but that will only put off the pain for so long, you know?

I’m sure my writing will fall by the wayside for a bit.  Just when I was getting better about it…

Thanks for your love and your prayers and your sideways half-smiles.  I know they mean you care for us.  Forgive me if I just can’t receive them well right now…


4 thoughts on “>Another one bites the dust…

  1. >Anger is good. It is okay to be angery at everything, it means you are feeling. I got very angry yesterday for you. Please don't take the "next time to tell everyone so early comment" to heart. The more that know the more that pray, during the good and the bad. Words won't make you feel better and it will take a long time, but please remember you are loved.

  2. >Katie, I am so so sorry to hear your sad news. Sometimes even when we are grieving with hope, it still just feels good to recognize that death sucks. And as much as we hate it, it saddens God even more. We sang one of my favorite hymns in church this morning called "There's a Wideness in God's Mercy" and my favorite line in it is: "There is no place where Earth's sorrows are more felt than up in Heaven". Every time I feel the grief of loss (we have five baby angels of our own) I like to remember those lines. I am so, so sorry for your loss.

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