When I am sad...
I don't want someone to tell me how "it gets better" and that I need to or I should "move on."
I need someone to tell me that, it's okay to be sad.
I don't need someone to tell me how it's better that it happened now, rather than later.
I need someone to hold me and tell me that I will find the strength and that it's okay to not be okay.
I never liked talking about sad or "negative" feelings... I just articulate it through written words because I'm pretty sure, once I talk out loud about it, I will validate the feelings. I will validate the pain.
It all started this weekend. I've been in and out of the hospital because I was spotting and it was accompanied by mild cramping. I tried to calm down. It's bad for the baby if I get too stressed. The ultrasound showed our baby - he or she was the size of a pea, and with a heartbeat already.
A Heartbeat. That's a really good sign.
I was given medication to help with the pregnancy and was sent home and instructed to only stand when necessary (like bathroom breaks) for the next 2 weeks. That's exactly what I did. Kara noticed that I was sad and worried yesterday so she sat by my side and started singing. She is such a sweet child.
When I woke up this morning, I felt a stabbing pain. In my head, I knew what was happening but my heart -- my heart was hopeful. This is nothing, I kept telling myself. My baby is doing fine, cozy in my womb. Then, I felt it. A gush. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I started crying.
I called my mom because she was the nearest to me and I told her what was happening. She brought me to the hospital. They did an IE and then when my husband arrived, we proceeded with the ultrasound. I didn't dare look at the monitor. I just asked the sonologist "How's my baby?" And she nonchalantly responded: "It's gone."
While I was back in the recovery room (alone with my thoughts), I just wrote a letter for my baby. I didn't know what else to do, or to think.
I have only known you for a few weeks, but I love you already. I was so excited to share the news because we've been waiting for you. I already pictured how you'll share a room with your big sister. We've picked names for you - long, archaic names because it matches our last name.
One of my friends even got you this set of beautiful rattles. I was telling her all my ideas and how we'll have so much fun! I started singing and reading to you just as I did when I found out I was pregnant with your ate Kara. Your papa said I should leave the singing to him... because I suck at it, but I still sang to you everyday. I sang in the shower, sang while I was working, and right before bed time...
I am really sorry Sweetheart...
I will never get to hold you. I will never get to nurse you. I am sorry you will never get to play with Kara, with Albus Labrador, or with me. I am sorry you will never get to hear your papa's DJ voice.
I am sorry my body failed you. I didn't get to protect you as mothers should.
I am really sorry.
“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”
Doctora said I need to be on bed rest again for a week or two to help my body recover. I am still in pain physically, but nothing hurts more than my heart now.
I'm just wondering how long the heart recovers.
For now, I offer a silent prayer for my little one.