Just a month ago, I posted about our exciting news. Finally announcing (here on the blog) our newest pregnancy, at 15 weeks along. I announced the pregnancy long before that to family and friends. For whatever reason, it just took me a while to finally blog about it.
It is honestly a surreal feeling to be, once again, posting about the death of another one of our precious little ones. I think I still feel a little shocked. It is hard to find the words to share the story, yet again. That is most likely because I still don’t want it to be real. I wanted this sweet baby, our last baby, so so badly. I’ve longed to blog about this all week, but every night, as I sit down to try, I just can’t bring myself to write it.
I am going to start sharing the story, piece by piece, not all at once. It is healing for me to write about it. It is also my great desire that the Lord would use the pouring out of my heart, and the hope and comfort I find only in Christ, to comfort other women who might come across these posts in the days, weeks, months, and years to come. There is a huge, special place in my heart for other women who go through this.
Last Thursday, May 8, 2014 (a day that will now forever be etched on my heart, and in my mind), we went in to my doctor for my BIG sono. The sonogram where they check out all of the anatomy of the baby, and make sure everything is growing and developing properly. It’s also the sonogram where you get to find out the baby’s gender (if you want to, and if the baby cooperates). Jared and I had finally decided, just before the appointment, that we were going to wait to find out the gender this time, until birth. We brought all of the kids with us to see their baby sibling. The sonographer put the wand on my belly for seriously only 2 seconds, put it down, hopped up, quickly exiting the room while saying, “hold on a second, I need to get something.” What a liar. Jared and I kept looking at each other, and the longer he was gone, the more of the “knowing glances” we kept giving each other. Going through this twice before, we know it is never a good thing when the tech leaves the room. And the longer he was gone, the more we knew that the “something” he needed to get was actually a “someone” – the doctor. As we attempted to patiently wait for him to come back, in the middle of one of mine and Jared’s knowing glances, I said, “Guys, no matter what happens today, we will be ok. God will help us through it.” Everyone remained silent after that. Soon after, the tech returned with my doctor and the nurse, and then we knew our worst fear was again a reality. The doctor asked me some questions about symptoms, how things had been going with the pregnancy, feeling kicks, etc. It seemed like he was trying to prolong telling us, because he wished he didn’t have to. He finally said, “I am so sorry, but the baby is gone.” The tech took one more look with the doctor, and they said it looked like the baby had passed away a couple weeks ago. I told him we had just heard the heartbeat three weeks ago, and everything was fine. He said the baby probably passed away pretty soon after that. I also told them that was about the time I had started having a bad feeling, like something just wasn’t right. I’ll talk more about that “feeling” I had been having in my post tomorrow. Stay tuned…
If you are new to this blog, welcome! To give you a little history on our past baby deaths, or for some great lists of resources on miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, check this page out.