I’m not even sure what I feel right now. It’s such a mix of sadness, anger, confusion, and rage.
The ultrasound today showed no growth since our last one 10 days ago.
Still no heartbeat. Still measuring 6+ weeks.
This pregnancy won’t continue.
We’re going to lose another baby.
This is our story. Again.
My wife Sara’s already begun spotting. It’s a matter of days at this point.
Why did we even have to get to this point? Why did she even get pregnant if this was going to be the outcome?? Why can’t we catch ONE break? Why put her through these last 12 weeks? Why not spare her this hell? One break. Just one. Please.
But no. It’s the middle finger to our faces. Again.
Do we both really need to know what it’s like to lose a pregnancy? Why her? Wasn’t it enough that we lost the twins at 17 weeks?
I don’t know where we go from here. This is all just so much to bear.
If my body had been able to do what it was supposed to, Sara wouldn’t know this pain. It’s hard not to feel responsible, even though my logical mind knows it’s no one’s fault. That, sometimes, these things just happen.
Apparently, sometimes these things just happen. Often. To us.
I question everything. Should we not be mothers? What’s the lesson behind this, and why the hell must we learn it?
Seriously, what the f*ck have we done to deserve this? How much heartbreak can two people handle?
December just isn’t our month. My water broke three days before Christmas nearly two years ago — and now Sara will lose her pregnancy this month.
We’ve been waiting to get pregnant since my miscarriage in 2012. And now, we’re waiting to miscarry. Knowing that it’s going to happen — I’m not sure if that makes any of this easier, not that any of this is easy. My miscarriage was a total surprise. 17 weeks in, and a perfectly healthy pregnancy right up until that moment when my water broke. It’s been a few weeks now that we’ve known something’s not quite right with Sara’s pregnancy, but we had reasons to explain it all away — though, we’ve somehow been preparing for the news we got today.
I stopped rubbing and giving kisses to Sara’s belly a couple of weeks ago. I suppose I started to guard my heart after the first ultrasound didn’t show a heartbeat. I suppose I’ve been preparing for this since then. Saying everything could turn out well, that there’s hope. I think I was saying all that in an attempt to convince myself. The last thing I want to do is face the fact that we’re dealing with this again.
This story is so old. I’m so tired of telling it. Our road to motherhood has been littered with such sadness, loss, disappointment.
Where’s the good news?
Image courtesy of Aela MassMore On