{This is my friend Holli from It's an Ordinary Blog. Thanks so much for sharing Holli! Check out all the posts here.}
I vividly remember the day I found out that I was pregnant.
It was late August 2009 and I had this strange urge to grab a home pregnancy
test on my way back from work. It hadn’t missed my period and, other than
feeling tired that week, I wasn’t exhibiting any of those “tell tale” symptoms
associated with pregnancy (I would later come to discover that most of those
symptoms don’t even surface until around week 6-8). The next morning, I quietly
took the test in the comfort our our master bathroom and was shocked to see a
positive result. It was a happy surprise. Joyful tears flowed down my face as I
realized that life was stirring inside me. In the weeks that followed before
our first prenatal appointment, we shared our happy news only with close
friends and family. It wasn’t until after our first ultrasound that we shared
the news of our impending arrival with our extended network of friends and
co-workers. Like many new expectant parents, we were under the impression that
our baby would be one that we would take home from the hospital and love as he
or she grew into an independent person. We were mistaken.
In early November, my husband and I headed to a routine
prenatal visit where we were excited to hear our sweet baby’s heartbeat via
doppler. Elation soon turned into worry as my OB doctor referred us to a
prenatal imaging center for an ultrasound. It was there that we would discover
that the child we thought we would take home would never be an outside baby.
For parents who have never experienced a loss, it’s hard to fathom how
heartbreaking that news can be. For several weeks I had developed this
relationship with the child I thought would be mine and it was stripped from
me. It hurt and I didn’t understand. It was the worst moment of my life. My
doctor recommended a D&C in the days that followed after we received the
news and I was told that we were clear to start trying again in January 2010.
The prospect of “trying” was scary. There are so many uncertainties associated
with getting pregnant after a loss and the thought of losing another baby can
be overwhelming but our loss made me realize how much I wanted a healthy baby
and I knew we would have to eventually move on and try in order for that to
happen.
By April 2010, after months of charting, ovulation tests,
and negative home pregnancies, I was losing faith. If I could get pregnant
without even trying the first time, why wasn’t it happening this time?!
Everywhere I looked, it seemed, other women were getting pregnant, having
babies, and enjoying the life that I thought would be mine and I wasn’t. By the
first week of June 2010, the realization that our due date was upon me. My
husband and I decided to take a couple days off of work to spend together,
doing something fun, in memory of the child that never made it home. Later that
month, on the 22nd, I found out that I was pregnant with my daughter.
I had just arrived at a good place, emotionally, after
mourning the loss of our baby, and I was scared that it might happen again. I
feared every cramp and ache fearful that it might mean the worst. I took home
pregnancy tests periodically (pretty much throughout my first trimester) just
to make sure that they were still showing up positive. Thankfully, Charlotte
Grace came into this world in February 2011 after a healthy and relatively text
book pregnancy. Not a day goes by that I’m not thankful for her presence in my
life. The takeaway that I gained from my experience in loss is that it’s hard
and it’s okay to be angry, heartbroken, and sad. It’s okay to mourn the loss of
something that should have been yours.
I was certain that our first baby was a boy. So we named him
Elijah Steven. I keep a box with his first ultrasound picture, a few
congratulatory cards we received from friends and family, and a little teddy
bear we had purchased as a gift for our baby shortly after we found out we were
expecting. These keepsakes are likely things that I will share with my own
daughter one day down the road as we talk about life, loss, and family. If
you’re mourning a loss of your own, know that you’re not alone and that it’s
okay to be sad. Sometimes sharing your story is a good way to let other women
know that they always have support.
