But the primary reason for the sadness is that this Mother's Day I am mother to one, not two children. A week ago, I lost the baby. (lost...as though I did something wrong.) Saturday, I noticed some bleeding, but thought it was the same early pregnancy spotting I had with Ben. When I began cramping, I joked to Joe that it doesn't seem fair that a pregnant girl should feel like she was getting her period. Jokes became concerns, which led to a middle of the night ER run. The doctor said that he could not yet confirm if the baby was okay. Sunday morning brought a lot more blood and I knew the baby was gone.
It is amazing how something like this affects you. Initially, I felt very pragmatic about it. Yes, it is very sad, but these things happen all the time. Nothing I could have done. I also felt relief. I was terrified of juggling two babies. How would I carry them around? Would Ben be a hateful, jealous older brother? Would I resent them? A few days after I found out about the pregnancy, I had a mini breakdown. There was anger and shouting, which then gave way to sobbing and shaking. Not my finest moment I assure you. However, I truly believe that every mother has had a similar episode, and if you haven't yet, your day will surely come.
Slowly, I began to feel stunned. My pregnancy never really felt real to me anyway. So much so that I almost felt like I was pretending to be pregnant. Had I imagined the phone call from the doctor? I knew that over 40 weeks of pregnancy, it would materialize, but it had not happened yet. And now, something that never seemed real to begin with was no longer there. Wrap your head around that one.
Then came the sadness. Did God take her away because he did not think I could handle her? (Yes, I was hoping for a girl.) Was this an awful case of "be careful what you wish for?" I didn't really want her to go away. I was just scared. I would love her. Bring her back! It was awful to realize that I will never get to know her. Never throw her a princess tea party. The happy family portrait in my head of two adults and two children went POOF.
Then my Facebook friend posted her ultrasound. The fetus is just starting to look like a teeny tiny baby. This woman has a child a few months younger than Ben, a gorgeous husband, and very confident parenting skills. Crushing blow delivered.
I laid in my bed and cried and cried. Part of me thought I should talk to someone for comfort, but I knew everything that would be said. Not your fault. It will be okay. Part of God's plan. And all the other things that sound reassuring. But I knew none of it would help. None of those sayings would bring her back. Come October, there will be no speedy trip to the hospital. No bundle of joy to bring home. No tiny red dress in our Christmas card this year.
I let the tears flow until I felt exhausted enough to sleep. When I awoke, I felt better and have felt better since. It is bittersweet, but I will be okay. Our family will grow one day, but even if it doesn't, I love my boys (dog included) and that is enough for me.
