I remember getting out of bed and getting dressed for work, hoping that that's where I would be headed after this brief stop at the doctor's office to make sure that everything was okay. I remember my conversation with my husband. He asked me if I was sure I didn't need him to go with me, and I told him that it would be fine and I would just call him.
I remember my phone ringing as I was trying to head out the door. It was a reference calling about a daycare that we had recently toured. We had really liked that daycare--it was probably the one we were going to go with.
I remember parking my car in front of my OB's office, saying a little prayer, and taking a deep breath. 'Just another day.' I remember explaining to the receptionist why I was there without an appointment, and I remember sitting in the waiting room for an hour, bladder full in anticipation of an ultrasound.
The nurse called my name, and I remember telling myself to smile. She took my vitals and showed me to an exam room where I waited some more, telling myself not to cry as I cried anyway. The doctor came in, and she seemed startled when I looked up at her with tears in my eyes. She showed me to the ultrasound room.
I remember that the room was different that morning. There was concern in the air, and it seemed darker. I remember looking at the screen and trying so hard to see life there. The sonographer was trying too, and I remember feeling like she wanted my little baby to be alive just as badly as I did. She tried for so long before I finally looked away from the screen and at her--I didn't say anything, but she knew that I understood and that she could stop. She said she was so sorry, and she helped me to sit up.
The doctor came in, and she just hugged me. I pressed my face into her shoulder and I cried in a way I'd never cried before. She gave me a few minutes, and then we talked about what needed to happen next. She wanted me to go home and talk with Joe and then call her back later that day. We would need to arrange an outpatient surgery because my body was still trying to hold on to the pregnancy.
As I was getting ready to leave, I asked the sonographer and the doctor if there had been any signs that this was going to happen. They told me that my previous ultrasound had shown a cystic hygroma, and our baby had probably had a chromosomal abnormality like Down syndrome or Turner syndrome.
We were walking toward the check-out area when I stopped and handed my paperwork to the sonographer. I asked her if I could just leave through the fire exit at the other end of the hall. I was so grateful when she didn't ask me any questions. She sent me back down the hall, and I found my way out without having to face anyone. I just got in my car. A part of me had died.
Joe came right home. He found me sitting on the floor. Our dog sat next to me, confused and wanting to help. Joe sat next to us, and we stayed there for a long time. He was crying in a way that he'd never cried before.
I called the doctor back later that day, and we set up my procedure for the next morning. After that, I can't remember what I did for the rest of the day, but I do remember sitting in our bedroom and listening as Joe called our parents, and my heart broke a little more each time the words fell into the telephone receiver: "We had a miscarriage." I could hear their hearts breaking on the other end of the line.
At the end of the day, I found my Belly Book and I wrote the following entry:
"Mon. May 3: Today we found out that we won't get to meet you yet--that you've already gone to heaven. Your Dad and I are very sad. We will tell your brothers and sisters about you someday when they are old enough. We have loved you from the very first day, and we will never forget you. Love, your Mom."
(What I'm listening to right now...)
Cat Power "Sea of Love"
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