I lost my baby at Costco.
Not literally, of course. And not my toddlers – they were safely strapped into the double cart, attracting as much attention as usual. No, I lost the teeny tiny glimmer of a future child my husband and I had just conceived. I can’t explain how I knew. But I did. I felt an odd sensation, and was instantly filled with panicky anxiety. I was nervous enough to be pregnant again so soon, and something just didn’t feel right. I tried to rationalize it away, but my body felt off. It knew.
It’s a strange thing, this grief. I was so excited to be pregnant again – my first babies are turning into big kids and I love every minute of it. I don’t want them to be newborns again – not by a long stretch. No, instead it is that I love toddlers so much that I want more of them. These little people that we made – we want another one. You’ve seen them – who wouldn’t? I knew it was time when I brought it up and my husband didn’t turn a whiter shade of pale. We were ready – we ARE ready. Our life is already chaotic. What’s one more?
It was just as easy as the first time – in fact, I found myself thinking it was too easy. We wanted a baby, and boom! Two pink lines. I was worried, a little, but mostly just overjoyed. We would be having a June baby – every teacher’s dream, right? With the right luck, I wouldn’t have had to take maternity leave. I’m terrible at secrets and so we told everyone. I don’t regret that; I don’t even know how to keep things to myself. And why would I? Pregnancy is exciting. Scary, but exciting. Which brings me back to Costco.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong that Friday, and I was becoming increasingly nervous about my first appointment. At the last minute we found out my husband’s work schedule changed and I would have to go alone. Considering the last time I went for a dating ultrasound they discovered TWO babies, I was less than thrilled with the thought of being by myself. I had a nagging feeling that wouldn’t go away. I got to the appointment early, did all the paperwork, peed in a cup. The usual. I saw the same nurse practitioner and we talked about all the logistics. And then came the moment of truth – the last time I was in this position, my life changed forever. And this time, again, it did. I knew immediately that something was wrong. She thought I would be almost nine weeks based off my cycles; I knew I should be almost exactly seven weeks due to my charting. Instead of a first heartbeat, however, the ultrasound showed only an empty gestational sac. A white circle.
She went on about “grey areas” and “follow ups” and how charting can be wrong, but I knew. I did the math over and over and over in my head and I knew. I was not five-six weeks pregnant. I wasn’t pregnant at all. It’s all kind of a blur; I scheduled the follow up appointment as I was told. I sat in my car and cried. I texted my husband and my mom, and cried more. I got home just in time to put my kids to bed, and they knew something was off. Everyone was crying. I couldn’t wrap my head around this. Miscarriages happen, but they don’t happen to me. I was going to have a June baby, and now all of a sudden I wasn’t going to have a baby at all. My friends and family were supportive; I tried to maintain hope. Things just didn’t feel right.
That appointment was a Wednesday. On Saturday, I started spotting, and by Sunday it was worse. I woke up Monday two hours before my alarm in so much pain I could barely breathe. I put in for a sub and tried to brave through the minutes until the doctor’s office would open. I made it almost half an hour before I gave up and called the triage line, where I was directed to head to the ER. I am so grateful that I have family around, as my husband was able to stay home with the boys while my dad dropped me at the ER, where my mom was already waiting. I was admitted quickly and everything happened fast. Ultrasound, painkillers, fluids, dizziness, nausea, cramps, the “M” word, tears, exhaustion. I was “treated and discharged” quickly and everyone was very kind. They instructed me to have a follow up ultrasound done, and that was that.
It’s strange, this sense of loss. How do you grieve something that never was? Everyone has their own path, I suppose. I remind myself I am blessed to have two beautiful boys, and I take comfort in the kind words and thoughts of others. The bottle of Don Julio my friend left on my doorstep surely hasn’t hurt. In the grand scheme of life, it’s just another small bump to overcome. A memory to tuck away, soon to be covered with piles of other, more wonderful memories.