When I started this blog, a part of me feared that I would have to write this post. And here I am, writing the post I didn’t ever want to write. I miscarried on Thursday. I would have been 8 weeks yesterday.
I’m very sad, having a difficult time getting out of bed and facing the world. I know I’ll be okay, I can see that, but right now, I don’t want to be okay just yet. I’m sad and I’m not ready to be anything but.
Thursday was horrible. The cramps didn’t start until later in the day, with a little bit of brown spotting. I was hoping it was going to be okay, I played a good face at work and made it home without shedding a tear. But once I got home and the cramps got worse and the blood went from brown to bright red, I knew it was over. I laid on the couch curled in a ball, waiting for Tim to get home. When I had woke up that morning I had my hands on my belly and had mentioned to Tim that I could feel my pulse in my uterus. I thought it was just the blood going to my baby helping it grow, but I realize now that’s not why the blood was rushing there. Tim was here with me when I passed the tissue our baby. I can’t tell you what that felt like. In between my shaking and sobs, I wanted it all to be a nightmare. This wasn’t how I was supposed to be having our baby, this wasn’t supposed to be happening. Tim has been everything I have needed and more. He has held me in the middle of the night when I couldn’t stop crying. He has forced me to eat when it was the last thing I felt like doing. He has tried to make me smile. If it’s possible, I love him even more after all of this…and it has made me realize just how badly I want to have a baby with him. My doctor has also been beyond amazing. She called me the next morning to check on me because she had been thinking about me all night, and even came to the hospital to be there for me when I had the ultrasound, when she wasn’t even working. I wasn’t sure doctors were capable of being so caring anymore.
Yesterday Tim and I went to a tree in a field at a place that has been special to us, and we buried what was to be our baby. It felt like something I had to do in order to move on, in order to get out of bed. Before I got pregnant, I would say how my body wanted a baby so badly, that it felt empty. That wasn’t empty. I want so badly to still be pregnant, to not feel the grief that I feel right now. I want to look into the mirror and not see my flat-again stomach. I want to be getting fat and still be dreaming of our baby.
I want to not feel so empty.