I laid on the bench seat of my husbands Dodge truck as he ran errands before my OB appointment. This wasn’t a planned appointment, so for him life must go on I guess. As tears ran down my face and blood ran down my legs life carried on around me. I knew what was happening, but the want inside me was strong. The night before as we sat in a cold ER room, the ultrasound technician searched for a heartbeat and the ER Dr. confirmed what I already guessed was happening. At 13 weeks pregnant and on the cusp of announcing our second child, God had other plans. I became numb to the idea that I was having a miscarriage, we had just seen a fully formed baby and that flickering heartbeat a week before. I don’t even think I slept that night, I just curled up in bed and imagined what it would have been like.
The next morning as I curled on the seat in my husbands truck, I held out hope that the blood was somehow not so bad, the baby was somehow okay, and the ultrasound tech was not looking in the right spot. When we made it to my Dr’s office, I watched the bumps walk through the door. All of these women glowing and rubbing their bellies, it sucked the life out of me. The office secretary fit me in, which meant thirty minutes with multiple bathroom trips before I even got to my own room. Once in a room and another thirty minutes later I finally saw my Dr. It was all a big blur, all I can remember now is that trying again was an option. I felt betrayed and didn’t want to try again. This was my baby and it was being taken away from me too soon. I wanted someone to make it all better, but honestly there are no “I’ve been there’s” or “I’m sorries” that could make it any better. As a matter of fact, anything you say just makes it worse. The only person that ever said anything to me that I was at peace with was my husband. He felt my pain, and honestly didn’t ever say much. And that was all I needed! He sat with me when I took pills to remove the rest of the tissue that hadn’t passed. I cried and he held me. November 26, 2009 will forever be engraved in my mind as one of the worst days I had to face.
Little did I know then that November 26th would hold so much more for us. The very next year on November 26, 2010, I went into labor a little over 4 weeks early. I had spent the past eight and a half months tip toeing through that pregnancy. Nervous for the future and constantly imagining how old that baby would have been and what milestones we would be embarking on. Somehow we where coming full circle and November 26th not only became a day of loss, but now a day we celebrate.
Happy Birthday my beautiful 6 year old Brody Bear. You bring pure joy to our family with your contagious laugh and beautiful face. I am completely in awe of your huge heart and love for your brothers. I adore you.