letting go: part 2

The devastation felt after learning my baby had no heartbeat is indescribable.

The image of the embryo not moving or even wiggling during the ultrasound was a complete out of body and out of moment experience. Disbelief plagued me. It didn’t feel right.

In essence, I was carrying around a dead baby inside of me for two weeks. My body didn’t know yet, and I sure as heck didn’t.

How could I believe my baby was dead when every doctor said that this pregnancy would be different. Conjoined twins were an anomaly; a rare occurrence that holds no bar for future pregnancies.

Its seems that anomalies are not on a time frame. They don’t care what you have been through.

Soon my husband and I were ushered into my doctors private office to figure out how to proceed. The logical walls I built around my brain was now being pummeled by emotional torment.

He told us I had a missed miscarriage. For whatever reason my baby died and my body has yet to realize. Literally any day now my body could naturally decide to abort.

The pain would be similar to menstrual cramps but much more painful. The emotional toll alone would bring me to my knees, so the thought of going into essentially what would be labor is honestly a burden I don’t know I could bare. My doctor felt the same and recommended I have a surgery to remove everything out of my uterus. You know, “everything” as in my baby.

We scheduled a dilation and curretage surgery, commonly known as a D&C, a week from that day. This was the road I needed to take after the trauma of my last pregnancy. Other options included waiting it out so my body could naturally abort or a pill that would tell my uterus to abort immediately.

I carried my babe for another week in wake of a surgery that would suck it right out of me. Truly horrific thought. And that week was strange, like I was watching someone else’s life through a TV screen. I had a belly bump, and I looked pregnant, but not really.

And also, nobody knew, accept my mother and my sister. We told no one else for this exact scenario that we dreaded would happen. I anticipated my mothers familiar devastated reaction that honestly brought a validating comfort, for we gave her similar news a year and a half ago.

Post-op included blood work and a Covid test. The women administering the giant q-tip swap up my sinuses asked about what surgery I was getting. She could sense my devastation. I told her I wanted my baby, and she said of course you did. I appreciate the kindness and sensitivity this woman gave to me.

Two days later I entered the hospital anxious and alone.

Join me on my path back to hope~

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