Last Saturday morning, after experiencing some bleeding and assuming I was miscarrying our baby, Brandon and I went for an ultrasound to see if there was any chance the pregnancy was still intact. He and I had spent most of Friday night in a numb fog, crying on and off for most of the evening.
During the ultrasound, the doctor told me that he saw no baby, no sack, and told me my body had probably flushed all signs of the baby over the past day or two. Brandon held my hand and I tried to be tough as nails.
At work on Monday, after just having told my boss on Friday I was expecting, I tried to be tough as I talked to him about my weekend and our loss.
The past few days as friends shared their love and prayers with me, I tried to be tough.
Today, I’m not feeling very tough. I thought of the opportunities I’ll now miss because I’m not pregnant, and it’s made me sad. No holding a newborn baby in my arms and nursing in the wee hours of the morning. No baby cries echoing through the house. No sweet-smelling skin of a newborn. No piece of Brandon and me, together. No seeing my children become big brothers and big sisters. It’s all gone.
I don’t know why I’ve been putting on the tough act through all of this. My body and my heart are going through loss and healing and it’s perfectly okay for me to be sad. Lori, it’s okay to feel. It’s okay to mourn.
Brandon’s heart can’t take another loss, so we’ll likely not try again. And with my advanced age and now a miscarriage, the chances are quite high that I won’t be able to sustain a healthy pregnancy going forward.
The emotions swirling around me are reminding me to feel what I’m going through. So today, I’m not going to be tough. Today, I’m going to feel.