I've been trying for another kid for the last few months.
All I wanted for my birthday/Christmas was to see those two lines on a pregnancy test. I so badly wanted to know that my life was moving forward, that the plan to have a second baby was going to play out in my favor. I got my wish. The Monday before Christmas delivered me a faint but positive pregnancy test.
We were over the moon.
On Christmas Eve I took another test, and this one was very obviously positive.
The next day we told our parents during Christmas festivities, and the joy in the air was nearly euphoric.
Then.
It.
Happened.
Or rather it began.
The bleeding.
The visual horror of red paired with the absence of pain created fear mixed with uncertainty. The tears were real, so was the sorrow.
Long story short, five days after I learned I was going to have another baby, I passed the pregnancy. The clotting stopped and my HcG levels dropped to nothing. The physical part was over.
The doctor called it a "spontaneous abortion," most likely caused by a chromosomal abnormality.
My heart was broken.
For five days, I was having another baby. I had the worst nausea, so bad that I wondered if I was going to get a girl. We told our families. We talked to Charlie about a baby. Then it was just gone. All the daydreams of baby #2 disappeared right in front of me. My baby was given to me, and taken away five days later.
We had to give back our joy. I had to give back my hopes and dreams. I felt like everything had been repossessed from me before I could even get used to the idea.
But I'm not angry.
I'm hopeful that in the very near future my time will come. That it won't take as long as I thought it might.
I am now part of that group of 1 in 4 women who have suffered a loss.
I know my rainbow baby is coming.
But this sorrow is so real.
I really hope the year 2021 is a better year for me and my family.
