During my ultrasound last week I found out that what I thought was going to be a routine 10 week prenatal visit was instead going to be a heart-wrenching discovery--that my baby had died 3 weeks prior. I had lulled myself into this false sense of security and so, was not prepared for this bad news. At my 6 week visit the doctor had found a heartbeat and said the chance of miscarriage dropped to 5% once the heartbeat is present. I had not had any bleeding and had a lot of morning sickness--no signs of miscarriage. It was a nasty shock to hear this news. I had a D and C later that day. Physically I am doing fine but emotionally this is very hard.
For some reason I am really bothered by the fact that my baby was dead for 3 weeks and I didn't even know it. I feel betrayed by my body. I am haunted by memories of the moment that ultrasound showed no heart beat and a baby that was at 7 weeks development--the moment my future and all my expectations changed.
The only people we had told were my brother-in-law and his wife because they told us they were pregnant too--and due about 1 mos after us. Today, hearing about their first prenatal visit, I couldn't help but cry for my loss. I think that every step of their pregnancy is going to be so hard to take. Even though I am happy for them on one level, I am so sad for my loss on another. I am dreading the next 8 mos.
Finding time to grieve has been challenging. I am so grateful (esp after this experience) to have a 2 year old son, but I don't feel I can cry while taking care of him. I have to snatch time to cry right before bed or sometimes while driving (if I do it quietly so my son doesn't know). I didn't tell any of my coworkers we were expecting so I have just been pretending to be more or less normal at work, which is difficult. I think maybe it's worse to be a private person at times like these because I really feel the need to talk about it or have someone acknowledge this loss (thus the post).
We want to try to get pregnant again but I feel a little bit as if time is running out. I'm 37 years old now and have no faith in my body at this point. My husband keeps talking about how we will have another and I have to tell him to stop. I feel as if he is making assumptions or jinxing us or something. No matter what, I will always have a hole in my heart because of this experience. I ordered a necklace with a heart-shaped pendant on it so that I will have something tangible to hold when I think of my baby.
Thanks for reading and, in advance, for any comforting words you might have. It has been somewhat cathartic to sit here and cry and write this post.




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It is tragic that anybody has to go through this, and I wish nobody ever had to feel the pain of losing a bub. 

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