STOP….if you haven’t read the blog post from Monday, titled-Martin Luther King Weekend- please check it out here before reading on….
Like I said in that post, it’s time for me to start sharing some of the lowest and hardest parts of my life. On Monday, you found out that I had a miscarriage in early 2011.
Warning…. that isn’t my only one and things only get worse, before they get better. So stick with me for a while. Some of my memories are hard for me to relieve and it’s taking some time, to put my feelings down on paper.
Okay so let’s pick us where we left off…
Again, I knew in my heart that I was having a miscarriage but tried to stay positive. Remember that on Friday, I started to spot and by nighttime I was full on bleeding. Heading to the doctors office the next morning was terrible. I remember, forcing myself to get dressed, (and by “dressed” I mean, yoga pants and sweatshirt, hair in a pony tail and no make up).
I remember the dreaded silent car ride (we lived over 30 minutes away) no radio, no talking, just driving. My husband held my hand the whole ride. He does this thing, where he rubs my thumb knuckle and he kept that up the whole time. It is very comforting still to this day.
We arrived at the doctors office, parked and get off the elevator…Now keep in mind, we are walking into a fertility office on Saturday, most people in the waiting room, are there for IUI or IVF procedures.
And here I am, tears streaming down my face, cramping and bleeding. I felt dirty, felt like a failure and I felt like everyone could tell that I was losing my baby.
The nurse immediately took me back to my own room, where I paced and cried. I got the blood work drawn and we left.
When we left, we got on the elevator with another couple. I buried my face into Andre’s shoulder and silently sobbed. I knew this would not end well.
I knew I was losing my baby. I knew this would change me forever. A piece of my heart would always be missing.
This is the first of many baby’s that we have lost. Each one of them has a special place in my heart and I know one day I will get to meet them and hold them… but until then I will honor their memory but sharing their stories…and think of them, every time my husband rubs my thumb knuckle as I silently cry.