I Will Always Wonder

Was it my fault?

Was it something I ate?

Something I did?

Something I failed to do?

Is it because I didn't take my vitamins everyday?

Or because I waited too long to start taking baby aspirin?

Should I have demanded more blood work and prenatal testing?

Should I have gone to a different doctor?

If I had, would it have even mattered?

Was it that I complained about having morning sickness?

Or that I breathed a tiny sigh of relief after the first ultrasound?

Could I have done something, anything, to have prevented this loss?

If I had made a different choice at some point, would it have made all the difference?

Could her death have been prevented?

Could I have prevented it?

Did my body fail to keep her safe?

Or was she just too fragile to survive?

What happened?

Why her?

Why me?

Why us?

Why?

Happy Beginnings

I really truly believed with all my being that this pregnancy would have a happy ending. I know it sounds crazy, but I felt very little fear and apprehension during this last pregnancy with Baby #2. It's hard to explain. I felt certain in my heart that this baby was the one. The one who would survive. The one who would be born pink and screaming. The one who I could hold in my arms and never let go. I just couldn't help feeling like she was meant to be.

After waiting so long just to get pregnant, I was so happy and excited (and a little bit shocked) that I don't think worry had space to settle in. Part of me was concerned early on, but once I saw the baby's beautiful strong heartbeat, joy completely replaced all fear. I really wanted to enjoy this pregnancy and embrace it as a celebration of new life. This baby didn't deserve to be part of my grief. I didn't want her to live in the shadow of loss. I wanted to look forward to her birth, not fear that I might lose her too.

But just a couple of weeks after first seeing my tiny seedling, an ultrasound revealed she was gone. Another ultrasound confirmed it and a week later, my body finally let her go.

No matter what happens, this baby will always be a memory of joy in my heart. I will forever associate her with happiness, hope and pure love. She was a miracle from the beginning and even though I'll never understand why she died, I am so very grateful for the time we had together here on earth. And I'm glad that I let myself feel joy instead of fear and love instead of grief. We may have only had ten weeks together. But they were the most amazing ten weeks. And they were special.

So, no happy ending after all.

But the happiest of all beginnings.

A Bad Dream

I'm sitting in a dark room alone and I'm waiting for... something. I'm not exactly sure what it is. I've just been given the dreadful news and have been instructed to sit here and wait. I am confused and sad, disappointed and tired. It's been a long day and I just want to go home. I just want to get back to my life. But all I can do is wait here. I'm stuck in this place. I realize this is part of the process and sometimes these things just take time. I realize that sometimes joyous plans are interrupted and put on hold and all we can do is be as patient and hopeful as possible. I realize as unfair as this may seem, there is nothing anyone can do to change any of this, so feeling like a failure or hating the world are probably just going to make this worse for me. I keep telling myself it will be okay in the end. After all, the hardest part is over. Now I just have to wait for the darkness to relent so that I can wake up from this bad dream. But really, I'm just waiting for the end of what has sadly already ended.