My doctor called an hour before my appointment to let me know that my hCG numbers had dropped from 55 to 28 in two days time, and that this was unfortunately a miscarriage. All the bleeding I had Friday, along with the “large clot” I passed was more than likely the baby.
I am completely broken.
This baby was only 6-weeks-old, but had completely stolen my heart. From the moment I saw those two pink lines and “Pregnant” on the digital test, I was in love.
But then again, that is a lie.
I’ve loved this child since the moment Keith and I decided to try for #3. All year, each month when my period was due, I would get anxious. Praying and hoping that this was the month it would happen. November finally gave us that, and while we only had two weeks of happiness celebrating the life of this child, I do not regret sharing our pregnancy with the world. This life was something to celebrate, and the outpouring of love and support from friends and family has been so touching.
But I was not prepared for this.
I don’t know how to act.
I am sad.
Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe.
I feel guilty.
I am a mess.
And I just want to skip Christmas because celebrating such a beautiful season while experiencing such intense heartbreak doesn’t feel right.
But that’s impossible.
The birth of Jesus is worth celebrating no matter what earthly heartbreak is occurring.
I think that the hardest part of all of this is the not knowing…not knowing the baby’s gender, not having a name picked out, not knowing who this child would have been… I have complete faith that I will see sweet #3 again one day, and that he/she is spending time with Jesus, my Me-Maw and Pe-Paw, my Poupee’, and all of my other relatives that are in heaven.
But it still hurts. Perhaps the saddest thing I’ve ever done was re-write name tags for presents, because I’d already written “From: Keith, Linds, Gav, Bella, & #3”. This baby was real and wanted and an answered prayer, and I am so sad.