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.