I learned I was pregnant when I was only half expecting it. We had been talking about having a baby but it never seemed like the right time. Then I turned 40 and we knew we'd better get a little more serious about it. Still, we approached the whole thing very casually.
But then, on December 22, 2010, I saw those two lines on the test. The day was surreal. In shock, we were thrilled, and we couldn't take it all in. It was the ultimate Christmas gift and we enjoyed every moment of it. We shared the news with the innocence of a couple who forgot that not every pregnancy has a happy ending.
I'm a planner and I like things organized. The kitchen needed to be renovated so we got on that immediately. Within a few weeks the room was gutted. Everything was on track so that we'd have a nice new space in plenty of time for the new family member's arrivals.
We started to playfully argue about names and each of us felt we knew what the sex of the child would be. We didn't agree. A sonogram at 6 weeks revealed a beautiful beating heart. Our doctor assured us that the chance of miscarriage was reduced to less than 5% now that the heartbeat had been detected.
I took my vitamins, read up on the food I shouldn't be eating, and forced myself to eat more vegetables. Plans for a nursery were underway and I started to purchase maternity clothes from a few online sites.
Then I started to spot. Everyone came to screeching halt for a moment. Panic, confusion, and fear quickly became the dominate emotions. I could barely remember how to operate my cell phone when I tried to call my doctor. They asked me to return for a sonogram the next morning. I think they knew it was over but they tried to sound optimistic on the phone.
My husband refused to believe that it was bad news. He had no plans to go to the sonogram with me and told me I was worrying for nothing. Deep inside, I knew. I pushed him to come with me and finally sent him a text message that he received as he was driving to work: "If I have to hear bad news alone, I will have a very difficult time forgiving you." He turned around and came home.
The sonogram tech was somber and noticeably different than the last time we'd seen her. She knew. A few minutes later she said, "I'm sorry, there's no cardiac activity." Our baby had died.
It's been months and yet I am still crying as I type this. My baby was due to arrive into my arms just two days from now. We have tried, in vain, to get pregnant again and I'd hoped that it would soften the arrival of what should have been my baby's birthday. I doubt it would have made much difference. I'll never know.
I question a lot of things. Why did this happen? Why did I get pregnant in the first place? Was there a point to any of this? Right now, I am remembering the time when I was pregnant and we were so happy. It was just for a moment, but it was an important moment. I only had that brief time with my baby and I was not yet blessed to see my child's face, not yet.
My faith tells me that the time on this earth is like a blink of an eye. Our baby brought us joy. The loss brought us pain. However, we WILL see our baby one day and that pain will be long forgotten. Therefore, it's joy that will endure.
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