Our Miscarriage: Part 5 - Heartbreak

Part 5: Heartbreak

[This is the fifth entry about our miscarriage. To read our story from the beginning, click here.]

I recently watched Carl & Ellie's love story (from Disney's "Up") on YouTube. I remembered it being so cute, and I wanted to show Dan. I had forgotten that they also experienced a miscarriage. I know it's just an animated film, but I love this image.

Friday, March 1. I was 9 weeks exactly. We planned our second appointment around Dan's schedule. (I love how he wanted to be a part of everything!) Needless to say, after our first ultrasound, we were so excited for this appointment. I came with a list of questions for the doctor (I was so in awe last time, I had forgotten to ask any questions!) and we were ready to see our little one again. We had another long wait in the office. These pictures were taken just moments before the doctor came in...

I was in the middle of asking the doctor some of my questions when the ultrasound image came on the screen. But this time the doctor was silent, and had a perplexed look on his face. It took me a moment to realize what was happening, but then the tears started to swell. We could see the baby, but there was no heartbeat. 

I began to cry. Dan looked as white as a ghost. 

I don't even know exactly happened next, but I remember everything seemed to happen so fast. The doctor apologized. He explained how common this was. And he went over our options. I had what's called a silent or missed miscarriage, meaning the baby didn't make it, but my body hadn't realized it yet. I had no symptoms of miscarriage - no pain, no cramps, no spotting - nothing. It was a complete shock. The doctor said my body would eventually catch on and we could either: wait it out and miscarry naturally, take a medicine to induce the miscarriage, or have surgery (D&C). We decided to wait...

My doctor also suggested we see a specialist to get a second opinion. (The specialist's office had better ultrasound technology.) However, my doctor was almost certain the outcome would be the same. In a state of disbelief, we agreed and scheduled an appointment for Monday, March 4. 

Dan and I went home deeply grieving - grieving in a way we had never experienced before. I can't even begin to describe it. We cried. We prayed. We felt so completely broken. 

That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept going over everything in my head. I eventually resorted to Google and came across that blog I mentioned in my first post. There was so much going through my mind. Even though I had a follow-up appointment on Monday, I knew that it didn't matter. My stomach felt different - empty almost - and I knew that I wasn't pregnant anymore, that the baby wasn't there. I tossed and turned for hours. Finally, I knew that if I ever wanted to fall asleep, I just needed to write and get my thoughts on paper. And so, I wrote the last entry in my pregnancy journal:

Friday, March 1, 2013 

9 Weeks 

Dear baby,  

Today was our second prenatal appointment. We picked today because your Dad had off, and he was just as eager as I was to learn more about you. We were so excited to see you again, especially the flicker of your strong little heart on the screen. 

As I write to you now, I long for those eager and optimistic feelings to return. Instead, I'm writing with a heavy heart - heavier than it's ever been before. Already, what happened today at the doctor's office is a blur. We waited patiently. The image came on the screen. We could see you. The doctor was quiet. Finally, he spoke. He said that you had grown, but he could not find your heartbeat. I went numb, wishing I'd awake from a horrible dream. 

Daddy and I spent the rest of the day together in tears. Sitting in silence. Embracing and comforting. Sorting our thoughts and questions. Doubting one minute. Angry the next.  

We're absolutely devastated. In nine short weeks, we've grown to love you so very much, and we're deeply grieving the loss of your precious life. We don't know why your little heart stopped beating. We're trying to trust God's plan, wondering why He took you early instead of letting us love you here. We know you're in good hands (His hands) but we're sad we'll never hold you in ours. And now we look forward to that one day where we will meet you and hold you in heaven. 

Until then and with all our love, 

Mom

Even though they were some of the darkest moments, I was (and still am) so thankful for the time Dan and I had together during those first few days. It was a huge blessing that he was off from work that weekend (and truly a rare occurance). We really needed the time to grieve and process everything together. Life as we knew it had changed again.

And so, our "waiting" period began.

Keep Smiling...