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I've been struggling with the idea of writing this and sharing my story. Do I keep it a secret? Do I just let it go by and move on? I decided to share because there may be someone that understands. There may be someone that needs to hear this.
On April 21st I took a pregnancy test just to prove to my husband that I wasn't pregnant. We had been careful. I was under a lot of stress. We had no income due to the pandemic. I had the kids running around all day. Our day to day was more difficult than before. These were all reasons why my period could be late. Not a baby. Well guess what? 2 lines. What? 2 lines. I was definitely pregnant.
My initial reaction was not good. I cried. I worried. I said "Not now. I don't want this." I didn't want to tell anyone. I thought they would think I was an idiot. They would wonder how I could get pregnant in the current situation. They would wonder how I would take care of and pay for another baby. I didn't even have insurance. I cried for 3 days. I was overwhelmed.
I told my family. To my surprise, they were all excited. They met my words with joy and smiles. They couldn't wait to have another baby join this crazy bunch. My twin sister is also pregnant. We would be 10 days apart. Everyone laughed at the craziness that our lives would be. Tyler jumped up and down and said the baby was "a little coconut" in my belly. Everyone was happy.
May 14 I go to the bathroom and see blood. I've had a miscarriage before. This was not that. I was spotting. I took a breath. "I'm ok." "This is ok." I just kept telling myself that all would be good. I googled. I read. Don't google! You'll only confuse yourself more. By the 16th I was still spotting at went for an ultrasound. Everything looked great except the baby measured 5 weeks and 6 days. I was 8 weeks by my calculations. Monday morning came and I went to see my doctor. He repeated that the sac and baby looked normal. Maybe my dates were off. Maybe it would all be ok. I was put on pelvic rest and set to come back Wednesday. I was feeling hopeful again.
Monday night. An intense pain. A trip to the bathroom. Like I said, I've had a miscarriage before. This was it. How could this happen again? I knew my baby was gone.
My mind kept going back to the day I saw those 2 lines. I kept hearing my initial words "I don't want this." I would do anything to take those words back. The guilt was eating me alive. I DID want this. This baby was just 8 weeks but I loved it already. I prayed and told my little angel that I was sorry. I was sorry that I cried when I found out. I was sorry I didn't meet the idea with joy. I reassured this baby that it was wanted. It is a big reason why I am even writing this. I want people to know. This baby existed. This baby mattered. This baby was loved.
As these next few weeks pass by and my body continues to let go of what is left, I will work on healing my heart. I always pray to my 1st baby in heaven and now I have 2. I know these 2 angels are watching over my babies on Earth. I know they will watch over my sisters pregnancy. I know these babies were a blessing.
To anyone that has gone through this, you are not alone. You are strong. You have your own personal angel. I share my story because it matters. This baby mattered. My angels, I love you to heaven and back <3