I’ve been on vacation in the Canadian Rockies with my family – my hubby, daugher, parents, brother, sister-in-law, and niece. They were so excited to know that I was pregnant. I had been feeling tired and queasy but tried to plug along.
Early in the evening on August 1, my sister-in-law and I were giving the kids a bath, and I felt a trickle. Deep in my heart I knew the worst, but I tried to remain calm. I went to another room and checked, and unfortunately my miscarriage had begun. The worst was yet to come. I endured a painful van ride in rural Alberta on the way to visit family.
My husband & I have only just returned home. I think I feel worse about this loss (if that’s even possible) now that I’m home. Pregnancy books everywhere . . . a couple of friends know that have to be told . . . the pregnancy info packet from my OB that I no longer need . . . everything here reminds me that I’m no longer pregnant. And then there’s another facet – it’s as if it never happened.
But it did happen. We were so excited and happy. I knew I was pregnant within days of conceiving. I began my research. I scheduled an appointment for an 8-week check-up. I made a t-shirt for my daughter. We started making plans.
Sure we knew that miscarriage was a possibility. But I convinced myself that I wasn’t going to torture myself like I did last time. The fear of miscarriage hung over my head the entire 1st trimester of my first successful pregnancy. So, I let go and tried to enjoy early pregnancy. I tried to enjoy the small swell in my belly and the renewed fullness of my breasts.
In an instant, it was gone. My baby is gone. Who was s/he? Who would s/he have become? Where is s/he now? Did the baby’s heart ever beat?
I mourn you, baby. I felt you with me, and I miss you. You will never be forgotten.