I hate being sad, I hate mourning. I hate crying. It brings everything down. It’s hard to be good company and putting a smile on is the worst. It’s even harder when someone asks how you’re doing. How do you respond? And when they know what’s wrong, what do you say? When someone says “Sorry” you know they are trying to empathize, but you really have no response. You can’t say “it’s okay” because you know it’s not.
A couple of weeks ago, we had a roller coaster of emotions finding out we were pregnant again. Eventually it all settled on excitement. We were ready for this baby even though it meant a lot of things would change. Our two youngest would only be 18 months apart!
Everything was perfect, we were starting to get ready for our new addition. Telling close friends and family. We were hoping for a girl we started thinking of names (if it was a boy we already had a name, but we were really wanting a girl). I even started that lovely morning sickness. It felt good to be pregnant again. Until Sunday night.
I started spotting. I was horrified. I had just accepted this baby as our own. Why was the Lord taking her away from me?
Since previously having a miscarriage, I was concerned about the bleeding, but this one felt different. I needed a professional oppinion to ease my worrying. On Labor Day I called the nurse hotline. The nurse couldn’t confirm it was a miscarriage and told me to see a doctor within the next 72 hours.
After calling around to about 15 different offices, I finally found an office that was able to see me the next day.
Tuesday, David and I went with heavy hearts hoping it was just a little bit of bleeding I have been told is sometimes normal during pregnancy.
As we entered the ultrasound room, we held our breath. There she was, at 5 cm long, a strong heartbeat and nothing short of perfect. We sighed a breath of relief. Our baby was fine. There’s was no explanation why the blood had started as everything looked fine. After a quick discussion with the doctor, we had hope that everything was going to be okay. Our baby was going to live.
The next day, I continued as normal like I was instructed to do. About 2:30 in the afternoon, I have birth to our beautiful baby. At only 6 weeks and 5 days, she passed peacefully into our lovingly Heavenly Fathers arms.
I cannot express the sorrow we feel right now. I cannot tell you how much it hurts to hear your child’s heartbeat and be told it will most likely be alright when it ends up not. I cannot put into words what it feels like to lose someone you love so much. All I can say is it hurts.
Death sucks. It sucks to lose your child, no matter how long you carried or held her. Greiving hurts. No matter how you try to smile, on the inside it still tears you apart.
I know Heavenly Father has a plan for me. I know He loves me, my husband and my now 4 children. I know He takes care of all of us, even those He felt needed to come home early. I know my sweet baby was welcomed by so many people I love and care for. I know I will hold her in my arms again someday. I have great faith that this was meant to be. I am honored to be her mother on earth and to carry such a sweet soul for these past 6 and a half weeks. I especially know that families are forever and I am eternally sealed to my two angel babies. I anxiously wait for the day I can hold them again.
However, with all that said, I will miss my sweet baby. I will miss not being able to hold her in my arms for the first time. I will miss not being able to see her first breath. I will miss not bringing her home to her two big brothers. I will miss watching her grow to become a strong independent woman with a firm faith in our Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ. I will miss raising her. Most of all I will miss watching her wrap David around her tiny little finger that first day he holds her.