It's funny...

how light can turn to darkness in the blink of an eye. Yesterday I feel like my world tilted on it's axis.

I found out yesterday that the spotting that started Saturday night wasn't simply an irritated cervix. No, my sweet lil baby died at 7w4d - just 3 days after my last ultrasound where we saw that beautiful 140bpm heartbeat. I suppose I knew something wasn't quite right. I hadn't felt exactly right for the last week, and I had started to have period cravings. You know, I knew something wasn't right during the ultrasound. I didn't think I could see a heartbeat, and the tech wouldn't talk to me. It can kind of be figured out when she comes in and tells you to go down the hall to see your doctor. "They're expecting you," she said. Yeah. Oh boy.

I didn't lose it in the doctor's office though. No, I had to be strong and normal for my boys. I was pretty good until my hubby called me back. He was in a meeting, so I'd left him a voicemail. It was when I actually voiced the words out loud that I started to cry. Of course, he offered to come home immediately. So, after I fed my youngest, we all went to get him. I didn't want to go home; he let me pick somewhere to get us some lunch since my oldest and I hadn't eaten since before my wonderful appointments. I had a bellini. I felt like a traitor drinking alcohol, but my mind accepted that even though there was still something in my uterus, it wasn't my baby. My baby died.

Yes, I know I wasn't that far along. But it was still my baby. I loved it from the moment I found out about it. I loved it through the doctor telling me that maybe it was 'non-viable'. I loved it when we saw the heartbeat for the first time, and I still love it even after I know it's gone. It was my baby. There may be - no, there will be at least one more baby. Hubby wants to 'plan' this one, but I just want to not try, not prevent. I want to be blessed at least one more time.

I had my D&C today. She offered to let me go naturally, but I said no. I need the finality of knowing it's over and not the physical pain. Emotionally I have enough pain, thank you very much. My baby was dead for over a week before I knew it. I just wanted it over. The nurses were so nice. I woke up in recovery with my hand over my tummy. Whether I put it there subconsciously or they put it there when wheeling me in from the OR, I don't know. I just know I laid there with my hand on my stomach thinking, "This is it. This is the end. My baby is really gone." And there's nothing I could do to save her.

I feel like this one was a girl. In the last couple of weeks, I remembered that when I was pregnant with my oldest I had a dream. Well, more of a nightmare really. I dreamt I was in the shower and bleeding horrifically. And as I looked down at these rivers of blood in the bottom of the tub, I saw this perfect little girl float by on a leaf. She was impossibly tiny, yet seemed so perfect. And she opened her eyes - they were the most beautiful blue, like mine. And she had curly brown hair like mine. It scared me five years ago, but this time I frantically tried to push it out of my head like it could cause something to go wrong. I think my body knew and was trying to prepare me for the truth.

I feel like I've joined a club that no one really wants to be a member of, but once you're in, you're in.


That's enough for now. Painkillers kicking in and I'm making more typos than sense.