Friday, September 14, 2012

My Nightmare

My nightmares never prepared me for this.

If you were thinking the silence wasn't good news, then you were right. Our little one just couldn't fight anymore. To say that we're heartbroken - it doesn't even begin to fully capture the grief. I always feared having a miscarriage, of losing a baby that I'd never get to meet. But I never, EVER, fully grasped how painful it would be. I know people who have had miscarriages. I know people who have lost late-term babies. I know people who lost their babies only hours after being born. I never imagined how severe the heartbreak would be with a miscarriage. I know how deep the grief is for a couple who loses a baby farther along, or even after he/she arrives. But I never knew the depth of pain you feel with a miscarriage. I'd always thought it was painful, but, I suppose, because there's less time of attachment, that it would be something you could recover from. I'm sure that the different situations I'm talking about here  are not comparable, but for me, this is what I personally know now. And I know it hurts. I didn't think it would hurt this bad.

I think that it's all of the thoughts that having a miscarriage involves. About how it took us 8 months to even concieve - is it going to take that long, or longer, again? About how I had already starting picturing the Goose, at 2 1/2 years, as a big brother - now how old will he be? And 2 1/2 years apart - just like me and my brother, how great. About how I (and my father - the 100% accurate baby predictor) was convinced it was a little girl - was that our only chance for a girl (I'd be happy with any baby, of course, but I've always hoped to have a daughter)? About how I planned to tell everyone else at a family party - now I'll just be sad and drunk, and not pregnant.
About everything that was going to change...

I think somewhere, somehow, I knew something wasn't right. Just little feelings...like how the first few pregnancy sticks were never as dark as with the Goose, and how I stopped myself from using all the pregnancy sticks "in case" I thought something was going wrong down the line. About how we couldn't think of a cute knickname, but the Goose was "Little Squishy" from the very beginning. About how easily I put being pregnant out of my mind to keep my excitement hidden for the first trimester. About how it just never felt like it did with the Goose.
But I blew it off as "2nd baby syndrome" - telling myself that everything was less "exciting" because it was the 2nd time around. That it was all less exciting so that we could keep it a secret.

Don't get me wrong, I was crazy excited. But you know that feeling, when you just sort of...know? I'm sure I'm crazy, but I think I always had that feeling. When we went for that first sonogram last Tuesday, I feel like I knew exactly what they were going to tell me. And it came true. I wasn't "butterflies in the stomach" excited. I was "let's get this over with but I'm hoping for the best" excited.

I can't explain it. Somehow, on some twisted level, everything felt "right" when we got bad news. As though I would have been blown out of the water if we had gotten good news. I'm sure that doesn't make sense, and actually sounds horrible - but it's what I feel.

To make this whole shitty situation even worse...there's more bad news - x2.
One: it's not over. While we know our little one's heart has stopped beating, he/she's still in there. Nothing "physical" has happened yet. We're just waiting for this horrible, terrible thing to happen. I think that's when I'll really be a mess. Up till now I've been outwardly okay. I've been at work, I've been mostly fine around others, I've been able to do almost everything like normal. Once this is totally, completely over - it's going to really kill me. And knowing that this is going to happen, but not knowing when - it's the worst.
Second: (and this is just simple cruel fate) my SIL found out she was pregnant and due only about a week behind me. I thought that this was going to be the hardest months of my life - to see my SIL pregnant and having a baby all while I should have had the same. Well, if you didn't guess by my use of past tense, she miscarried too. She went through the physical motions before even getting to her first appointment. How could fate be this cruel to give a family two expected babies, but take them both away before they ever made it into our arms (not to mention that my other SIL lost her son just after birth 3 years back)? I just cannot believe that this has happened. I thought watching my SIL go through her pregnancy was going to be hard. Life just proved to me that watching her go through this with me has been even harder. No good news for any of us to share.

I realize this has turned into a sad babbling mess. But I'm not sorry. Because I need to get this out. None of my friends or coworkers, and most family don't know And I can't find the strength to call them up and talk about it. Not because I think they won't be sensitive or anything like that (well, that is a thought, but not what's stopping me). Because I simply cannot say the words out loud. I don't want to fall apart. I don't want to talk about it. Someday I will, but not right now. I think I need to process this all, by myself. I just can't say the words out loud. I haven't had to, except once with the second round of nurses and ultrasound techs at our second sonogram. Anyone else who's had to have it explained to them, M has told.

Which reminds me, I absolutely couldn't do this without him. He has been everything I need while going through this. He's the only one I feel comfortable to be sad with, and cry with openly (not to say it hasn't happened with anyone else). And he lets me. And he's stepped in where I've fallen apart. All while going through this himself. He's absolutely heartbroken. I'm sure he's just about the most sensitive manly man I've ever come across in my life. He just feels. He's cried with me. He's cried alone, just like me. His dreams have died too. But he's been my rock. And I can't ever put into words how amazing that is.

That's all I can get out today...

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