Right now this loss doesn’t make sense. Going into this I knew I could walk away with empty arms. I pushed that risk down to the bottom and filled my heart with hope. Jay and I had won the battle, with a positive test in hand we beat infertility. My prayers had been answered and God spared us a miracle that cannot be replaced. Everything I went through no longer mattered when I saw the heart flicker. Week by week I got to see our beautiful baby grow on the ultrasound screen. Little ears, a tiny nose, and hands, were all there clear as day. The baby’s heart was strong and everything looked great. I was graduated from the fertility clinic to our Perinatal And OB doctors. We were having a baby and not just any baby, but a super fancy science baby.
At 10 weeks 3 days a quick peak ultrasound at the perinatal clinic told me that my baby was no longer alive. The baby’s heart went from 182 beats per minute to utter silence. This is the part of pregnancy that I hate. We have no idea what is going on inside our bodies. We have no idea of knowing whether or not our babies are thriving or gone. I woke up that morning happily pregnant, talking to my baby, and planning the nursery furniture, only to have the rug ripped out from under me. And I am so fucking tired of having that rug ripped out from under me.
Part of me was cautious, yet once I saw the flicker I was all in. This was our baby, our turn, our rainbow and I was filled with joy. I thought since I had paid my dues by giving my first born and 2nd baby back to God, he would for sure let us keep this one. Because come on God isn’t cruel. Right now I can tell you I am angry and hurt. Three pieces of my heart rest in heaven and that isn’t fair. This life is not fair. I will never understand why some babies get to live while others are called home.
If my babies had a choice, they would choose life and I would choose them over and over again. The pain of loosing a baby never goes away, you just learn how to live with it. My third loss isn’t easy, it hurts and it’s not fair. Yet it is our loss, our journey to walk and our cross to bare. Jay and I are working through it and together we are mourning our snow pea’s leaving. Snow Pea did not have a choice in this, if she did I am confident she would have chose us, just as we chose her.