someday came suddenly

3.31.19

When I was 5 years-old, I lost my grandma to cancer. She was my best friend. I still have so many happy memories of her to this day, and I smile when I think back on her giving us coke and chicken noodle soup for lunch. I was 5, so I didn’t truly understand. I cried, I missed her at times, we sang songs about her. But I was innocent and I didn’t know pain. It was expected for her to pass soon, and she told the family when it was time for her to go. “Menaw went to live up in heaven with the angels“, and I had peace with that.

But until about a week ago, I didn’t know what pain or loss truly felt like.

On Febuary 12th, 2019, I woke up at 6:30 AM to rule out all the odds of pregnancy, so I could enjoy a margarita that night. HA. At 7 AM, I surprised Tanner with a positive pee stick. We were going to have a baby in October, and our hearts were filled with so SO much joy.

I took prenatal vitamins long before I fell pregnant. (Yes it was on purpose, so don’t ask.) I ate avocados and dried apricots like it was my sole purpose, because those are ranked like top 10 best pregnancy superfoods. Not to mention, numerous smoothies loaded with folic acid. I listened to my body when it needed rest. I read “what not to eat when pregnant” articles like it was my job. I listened to pregnancy meditations so I could “trust my body”. I bought some cute little onesies. I told Bentley he was a big brother. We picked some names, and narrowed it down to like 3. I talked to the baby. I even held my belly bloat in the palm of my hand pretty often (like the baby could feel me holding it). I made sure i was well under 200mg of caffeine a day, and most days even had no caffeine. Gosh, I am embarrassed to tell you, but I already started a baby registry. I was SO connected and so eager for this sweet baby. We both were.

As most every mama does, I did everything I could to protect and nourish my baby, but always feared the worst. Never did I ever think it would happen to me though. I am healthy. I’ve never smoked. Haven’t ever touched drugs. I work out. I have regular, and healthy periods. I have a perfect 2 year-old. “That will never happen”. Looking back, I can see how ignorant those thoughts were.

After a long, LONG month of extreme on and off nausea, fatigue, sore ta-ta’s, worrying, waiting, some on and off cramping, and researching all the baby things. We had an appt on March 21st.

Rewind to the day before, I cried and cried. Because “something wasn’t right”. I told Tanner. We both agreed I was hormonal and being the worry-wart mama that I am.

(Fast-forward) I laid down to have an ultrasound. They started with an abdominal ultrasound at 9 weeks gestation age. “Weird”, I thought, “why so early?” She then asked me to take off my pants for an intrasound.

“We tried, we’re gonna have to go inside with your tilted uterus”, the tech said.

(An intrasound is a polite way of saying, an INSIDE-your-lady-parts-ultrasound.)

I can’t explain the feeling, but I knew something was about to happen as I was preparing for the instrasound. It was most bizarre feeling I’ve ever felt.

“There’s your cervix. There’s your right ovary. There’s your left ovary”

Cool. Cool. And cool. But I’m not super interested in making out what THOSE blotches on the screen are. (But I know that’s just part of her job)

Moments into the ultrasound....

”Are you sure about your last period?”

This was the moment I knew it was over.

Yes I am sure lady. My period is like clock-work.

”Are you positive?”

YES I’M POSITIVE!!

“Where is the baby?”, we asked. No answer.

After a few minutes of probing me with the ultrasound wand, she spoke, “The baby is measuring small with no heartbeat”

This brief moment is a blur, while everything else is so vivid. But I remember going numb and Tanner squeezing my shoulder.

“You’ll have to ask the doctor any further questions”

No matter how nice the doctor tried to be, we hated every word that was coming out of her mouth.

About 5 days later we went in for another ultrasound to “double-check” and all remaining hope we had left was indeed out the window when hearing the words “there is no heartbeat” one last time.

All gruesome details aside, I was prescribed medicine, on March 26th, to pass the baby on my own at home because my body was still trying to hold on to the pregnancy. I chose that over surgery. It wasn’t an easy process, and I’m still feeling the physical aftermath of it as I’m typing this.

This experience was truly like falling through a trap door. For over a month, we were in a euphoric stage. We were having a baby!!!!! After one sentence, we fell through the trap door and we were in our worst nightmare, boom just like that. Each day, for a very small split second I have to remind myself I’m not pregnant anymore. I was pregnant one day, and my womb is empty the next. I will be fine one minute, and the next I’m bawling my eyes out. It’s one big trap door.

Just like with my menaw, I want to remember the happy memories. No matter how much pain we feel with this loss, I never ever want to forget the joy we felt when we learned we were expecting. I never want to forget when Tanner went and got me a Philly cheesesteak sandwich at 9:30 PM. Or Bentley rubbing and kissing my tummy. Or us “arguing“ whether it was a boy or a girl. Or talking and dreaming about how Bentley would adapt to a sibling. I’ll never forget the extreme avocado toast craving. Our someday, with our baby, just came way too suddenly and unexpected.

I am not typing this so you can feel sorry. I am not telling you this for your sympathy. Because honestly, nothing anybody says can make it better and that’s just the harsh truth. I am typing this, because I don't want it brushed under the rug like it didn’t happen. Ever since I’ve found out I was pregnant, I’ve wanted to shout it to the rooftops because I was so excited, but I never got to. A life is a life, a loss is a loss, and a baby is a baby. We lost our baby. I had a missed miscarriage. It isn’t a secret, it’s our painful reality. The very deepest pain, I’ve ever felt.

If you’re reading this and you’re thinking “you’re young, you can have another”, “it’s really so common”, or “You’ll get over it with time” Or if you’re reading this and you’re wondering why I am hurting so dang bad. Or maybe you’re the asshole that is butt-hurt for people being butt-hurt about fake pregnancy announcements on FB. It’s okay, i used to be that person thinking those things. But you should never say that to a mama that just lost a baby. I will never “get over it”

If you’re reading this, and you feel my pain because you have been through it before. I am so so deeply sorry. I am in awe that people sometimes go through this multiple times. It breaks my heart for all the mama’s and daddies our there. Mom’s, we are strong and we will heal one day. There will always be a scar, but I have hope that the pain gets easier to deal with over time. Dads, I see you hurting too. Thank you for being strong for us Moms and holding our hands through the physical and emotional pain.

And if you’re STILL reading this, whether you were just curious or you’ve been through the same thing. Thank you for reading this far. Even though the main purpose of this post is to start healing and make this not a secret, writing my thoughts down is a little therapeutic for me.

If you are a close friend or family member, and you’re finding out about this on this post, don’t take it personal. It’s been extremely hard, and not a lot of people knew we were expecting to begin with. We were planning to announce our pregnancy a couple days before this happened. A miscarriage announcement to each individual person is not exactly easy or fun.

Right now, I will shamelessly admit, I am not okay. I replay those moments in my head, over and over again. I hold those onesies, to let myself cry. I can’t bring myself to throw away those four positive pregnancy tests I took. I can’t stand the sight of any more blood. I want to cry every time I come in contact with Tanner. I have questioned God’s greater plan. I can’t help but feel blindsided. I am constantly reminded of my loss with weekly blood draws, random heavy bleeding, other pregnant women, and my own constant thoughts. All those dreams of the future we had just one week ago, are gone.

But in the midst of mourning our little baby, I am committing to start healing. I know I need to be okay for my baby living on earth. For the rest of my life, I will always celebrate October 23rd. This baby was going to be the best birthday present a mama could ask for, but little did we know, our little angel was needed in heaven. I pray I will, somewhat, find a little bit more peace in that, with each passing day.