September 5. Today was supposed to be the day. Today we were supposed to be a family of five. But, as I tuck my two kids to bed tonight, my heart is aching for what was supposed to be.
January 3. I realized while I was at work that I was over a week late. I didn't think much about it, but when I found myself at the Dollar Tree after work I grabbed a pregnancy test just to check it out. I came straight home and took it - and it wasted no time showing those 2 pink lines.
Complete and utter panic ensued. Frantic phone call to Jonathan who was at work. There were lots of words and tears and I was so conflicted. What did this mean for our family? I'd just gone back to work. Our kids are in that "easy" stage. What in the world are we going to do? But, deep down, there was excitement. I love babies and I love being a mom. I went to scheduling doctor's appointments and sending Jonathan ridiculous lists of baby names straight away. Secret Pinterest board of nursery decor? Yep, check! I knew which Disney rides that I could ride while pregnant. I was ready for a gender reveal. This baby was loved, even through tears of panic.
(If you ever need proof that this was an unplanned pregnancy, just please know that being 9 months pregnant in August was never something I would do on purpose.)
January 12. Spotting. Some frantic scheduling of appointments and vague texts to my principals and I was sitting in an office a few hours later. No heartbeat. No sign of a baby. So many tears and absolute devastation. I will never, ever forget the silence in that ultrasound room. We ended up getting a call later that I was indeed pregnant and that it was just too early to see a baby on the ultrasound. We had a slight glimmer of hope, but deep down I knew my numbers should be much higher to be 7 weeks pregnant already. The worst part is that we hadn't told many people at all - so as we were asking for prayers we were also catching people by complete surprise. It was a very painful weekend.
January 15. More blood work and confirmation that I was miscarrying. Absolute heartbreak. I cried so much that I honestly didn't know if I would stop.
January 19. Our sweet nephew was born. I didn't think I would be able to hold him. He was going to be our baby's buddy - a cousin of the same age and they could grow up together. Holding him helped start the healing of my heart. Every time I have held him since has mended the rips in my heart. He is such a gift.
(His anticipated arrival caused much of Jonathan's family to not know anything about what was going on with our baby. We wanted them to be able to celebrate this new precious baby with complete joy. We planned to tell them about the pregnancy a few weeks after our nephew was born.)
The 9 months since have held so much adventure and have seemed to fly by. But, here we are. September 5. The day that will forever be burned in my brain from that frantic Google search - "due date calculator". I thought by now I would have survived a summer as a huge pregnant mom and that I would be rocking a newborn. I thought our lives would once again be filled with pacifiers and nursing and rocking babies and sleepless nights. Most of all, I thought I would see Brenna and Davin with a new baby sibling. I cannot even begin to tell you how over-the-moon Brenna would have been to have a new baby in the house. That is what hurt me the worst when we lost the baby. I lost that chance to see my kids, especially Brenna, get excited about the pregnancy and to eventually meet him or her.
Grieving the loss of a life that we never anticipated has been so hard. Some days go by without a thought. But many days I've calculated how pregnant I would be and just felt that sense of loss over again. I've been an emotional mess on many occasions. I feel guilty for the panic I felt during the first days. I feel like I only got 13 days to love this baby and I spent the first few days in complete panic and shock. I had pictured our life as a family of 5. I thought I would extend my reign as the Tooth Fairy, get another "first Disney trip", watch 3 kids graduate, and look back and wonder how I survived being the mom of 3 kids. It wasn't just the baby that we lost. It was the life that I began to imagine on the day I took that first test.
Having this day in the rearview mirror is a relief. Having this day in the rearview mirror is gut-wrenching. Life and loss are funny that way.
Sweet baby, I was so excited to love you. I wanted to be your mama on earth so badly. I wish you were here.
