TRIGGER ALERT: This post deals with my experience with ectopic pregnancy and pregnancy loss.
Waiting to see a positive pregnancy sign for a second time was the most exciting and frightening few minutes of my life. The thought of a toddler and a newborn was terrifying, but we wanted it. When in late August I finally got that positive sign, I was ecstatic. We wanted it so much. Grace had her “big sister” book to tell daddy the good news. We had about two days of bliss.
Then the bleeding started. I got worried. We didn’t even get to share the news with anyone before that knot in my stomach started. I visited the doctors at least 5 times over a week for blood tests and ultrasounds. I was pregnant, but my pregnancy hormones were low and it was still so early.
Then the last day arrived. Our baby, our best news since we found out about Grace, was an ectopic pregnancy, which means he or she was growing outside of my uterus. He or she (let’s say he, because we truly believe baby was a little boy) was in my fallopian tube, causing it to rupture. My pelvis was filled with blood. If I hadn’t been checked so often, I would have bled out. I had to have emergency surgery that same day. I called my husband so he could be there with me and drop Grace with my parents. I had to tell my parents about our baby, and about the loss, in the same conversation.
Then on September 6, 2016, it was over before it began.
What now? We were the parents of a princess and an angel. For days, I had pain both physically and emotionally. I had scars to constantly remind me. It was so hard to be grateful for the beautiful little family I had constantly knowing someone was missing. I still cry. One night, I couldn’t even hold it in in front of my toddler. She comforted me. She knew mommy was a little broken inside and she just wanted to let me to know she was there.
I was lucky enough to get a job I love a couple of months after, I began a traveling adventure with my child and just stayed busy enough to at least get by. Then May was just around the corner. The time we should have been preparing for our little one to make his grand entrance into the world. The tears started again.
This is just my story. Not all pregnancy loss is created equal. We each have our own ways of just dealing with the aftermath. Believe me that I did not want my baby to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was. I can’t take away that feeling of regret. I wish I could have been his mom and protect him from everything. Even my own body. I couldn’t.
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. I let myself down. I feel like I let my husband down, because I know he feels that pain, too. I know he doesn’t think it’s my fault, but he still wants to be there for me like he amazing man he is. He is already such a great father. I just keep thinking about the what ifs, and it breaks both of our hearts.
I get asked often when Rich and I will have kids again. It’s hard to answer. Of course I want another child, but it’s not something I can even think about right now. We are still grieving. We are grieving someone who we didn’t even know yet, but loved so passionately. I don’t know when there is even an acceptable end to this grieving period. Maybe there never will be. I am not in a rush to move on. Life was unkind and I am still angry at how unfair it is that our baby was stolen from us before we knew him.
So I cry. I wait. I stay busy. That’s just what moms of angels do.