Goodbye, Baby 3

FYI-If you are not comfortable with the female reproductive system spoken about in detail, you might want to skip this post.

There’s always a possible downside to announcing a pregnancy.   There’s always the possibility that that baby will not survive.  If that pregnancy was announced, and that baby does not make it, then you get to say things like I am about to say to you.

This week I knew something was definitely absolutely wrong.  I hadn’t yet felt strong pregnancy feelings like illness, or that mommy instinct where you rub your belly or really anything at all.  I was supposed to be at the very least eleven weeks along.  I was not vigilant in recording my cycles so I could have been further.  But after a couple months of waiting to feel pregnant I began spotting, very very lightly, and I was worried.

I went into the doctor to an ultrasound.  Normally a pregnant lady gets one at about eight weeks, however, my doctor is apparently so in demand that I could not be seen until next week.  I was fine with that, I’m not a fan of driving the forty-five minutes to be weighed and blood pressured in the first place.

I told my doc that I had been having light spotting and light cramping and I just wanted to be told it was nothing so I could rest easy.  But part of me knew something was not normal.  I knew there was a chance I was having a miscarriage and I knew I could not emotionally handle passing a baby that at the stage I am at certainly would look like a baby.

So, he began the ultra sound.  He looked around in total silence for a minute and then asked if I knew what we were looking at on the monitor which was within my eyesight.  “No”  I said honestly.  Point a fetus out to me and I can understand where it is.  Ask me to find it and I’m totally lost.

“That’s your uterus.”  The doctor told me.

It was empty.

This is the point where I first wondered how a two-and-a-half inch baby escaped without my knowledge.  Did I mentally block out a miscarriage?  Was I suddenly placed into some insane scientific madhouse where they stole my baby without my knowledge?  I was certifiably crazy for those few moments when the reality hit.

The doctor shut off the monitor and placed a hand on my shoulder.  He told me he was sorry, and that I had a missed miscarriage.  I was still in a state of utter confusion and shock.  While I sat there, dumbfounded, he went to the waiting room to summon Mr. Pilver.

When we were all back in the room, he explained it to us.  Baby 3 died weeks, even months ago.  For some reason my body chose to keep on pretending it was pregnant.  It’s still doing that.  Baby 3 was likely gone by the time I took my first pregnancy test.  This is why I haven’t felt pregnant.  I’m not.

I think about my uterus as a little child who still believed their dead fish is just sleeping.  It is still hosting a placenta and an amniotic sac, but not a baby.

So, now I am sitting around waiting to have a  miscarriage.  I am sure I don’t have to tell you how much I am not looking forward to this.  It will be painful, and emotional, and could take some time to happen.

I’m okay.  Everyone asks me that.  Yes, I am.  I’m devastated.   I’m sad.  I’m scared.  But, if there is a bright side to this it’s that if baby three did live longer, they would have likely died while I was still pregnant or soon after giving birth. My doctor said this usually happens with embryos not forming properly.  I am happier knowing that my little baby didn’t have to suffer through pain.

Baby 3 is gone.  It’s hard to say I miss them.  But I do miss the anticipation of loving a little person.  I am so grateful I have a Mr. Max and my Lucy girl to hug when it makes me sad.  Thanks for ‘listening’.  And I promise if I make any more little babies, I’m going to wait until I see them wiggle before I go announcing them all over the internet.

About kristiane

killing spiders with my laser eyes.
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7 Responses to Goodbye, Baby 3

  1. I am so sorry. I wish you a very quick recovery, and hope it is as painless as it can possibly be.

  2. Anonymous says:

    I’m sending a big mental hug your way, Krissy. I wish I could be there to give you the real thing. I know the pain, and my heart is sad with you.

  3. DJ D says:

    K, I know everyone has probably said it a million times, but I’m so sorry to hear this. Between this and losing your job, I know things have been stressful these past few months. I consider you to be an incredibly dear friend and you know I’m always here for a conversation. If you ever want to talk about anything, even if it’s something stupid and frivolous (especially if it’s something stupid and frivolous), you’ve got my number. We’ll hash it out over rum and cokes.

  4. shop says:

    I will pray for you and your family.

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