Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. It's not something I find particularly easy to talk about...but its something I have wanted to talk about for a while. In fact, I had a dream about it last night - no joke. (How weird is that?)
I have had to say goodbye to four babies. Getting pregnant was never an easy thing for me to become. So when I did, I immediately fell in love. The anticipation, the hopes, the dreams, all were amplified.
My first loss happened shortly after Bucket turned one, and shortly after an ultrasound. I was almost 12 weeks when I awoke to bleeding. I called my mother and we rushed to the hospital. It felt like an eternity before I felt like we were getting anywhere. But it was too late, they couldn't find the heartbeat. They scheduled me for a d&c just a few hours later. I was devastated. Hurt. Angry. Depressed. I think I slept for almost two weeks straight. I don't even remember showering.
About a year later, it happened again. I woke up on October 31st, 2006 to bleeding. I immediately began crying. I knew it was over, but I was in denial. I didn't want to say goodbye. When they finally got the on call doctor in, they gave me an ultrasound. I remember searching on the screen for that flicker of a heartbeat. After having one successful and one failed pregnancy, I knew what to look for. But I held my breath in hope. When the doctor turned his head toward me and broke the news, I cried the hardest is ever cried in my life. Another d&c was scheduled almost immediately after. I went into the surgery crying and woke up crying. I had to return to work 2 days after. I spent most of the time crying. And while, just a couple months later, I found out I was pregnant again, it didn't ease the pain. The fact that it was a terrifying pregnancy didn't help, but miscarriages really suck the joy from subsequent pregnancies.
After Dillinger was born, we decided to try for our third. I wanted two close in age, but Fate would have it otherwise. It took a year and a half to even get pregnant. My due date was December 26th. My youngest sister was due a week later. I started spotting. Since it was dark, I held out hope. I went to the ER, they gave me an ultrasound, bit they said since it was early, it might just be that the baby was still too small to be seen. I then waited another two weeks for testing results. All the while waiting and hoping. When they called me to tell me my levels had dropped, I slumped on the floor. I couldn't believe it was happening again.
A couple months later, I miscarried again, on my birthday. All wounds that were healing had opened again. I opted this time not to seek medical attention. It was too early and I knew there was nothing they could do (they can't, not until 23 weeks). I didn't want false hopes...
All my losses were early, between 6-11 weeks. I never got to find out whether they were boys or girls. But it doesn't make it any easier. I never got to hold them. I never saw anything except q heartbeat if I was lucky. Not a single picture to remember them by. I will never have true closure. I've named them (Dyre, Riley, Noel, and Hayden) in an attempt at closure. But it still doesn't feel like enough. They were life...it hurts, even now.
I frequently look at my kids and wonder what life would have been like had I have carried to term. What they would have looked like...What their personalities would have been...It's almost impossible to imagine. So, instead, I thank them for giving up their lives so their siblings could have a chance.
So, sleep sweetly, Dyre, Riley, Noel, & Hayden. You're forever missed & never forgotten.
