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.