November 10, 2015. The day my husband & I were celebrating 1 month of marriage. The day would end with a far more momentous event. I was pregnant.
Peeking at my Kindara app, I realized I was late. A whole, 24 hours late. I went back and forth for hours. Should I test today? Should I wait a couple of more days, knowing a false negative would crush me? My impatience got the best of me. I dug out the tests my best friend gave me a few days before. They were left over from her own happy moment. The day she discovered her son was coming. I hoped they would bring me such luck.
A mere 60 seconds later, they did. I am pregnant.
You may be confused as to my lack of effusion. Was this baby unexpected? Are you disappointed? What is holding you back?
The answer to that is my memory. My memories from seven years ago.
Seven years ago, almost to the day, my husband (then boyfriend) and I found out that I was pregnant. We were so young and so unprepared. We were so excited. Our families were excited. No one held back on the joyous news.
And then I remember. I remember being scheduled for our first ultrasound in January at 11 weeks. I remember happily chatting about baby names on the way to the appointment. Adam Cole, Jr. for a boy? Samantha for a girl? I remember walking into the tiny little room lit mostly by the light of the ultrasound screen. I remember being so full of hope. I remember the tech having to use “that” wand rather than the belly one (ugh) I remember her going quiet and going to fetch my OB. I do not remember my OB’s exact words. everything seemed to slow down and go silent. I do remember seeing my baby clearly on the screen. I remember the baby measured 11 weeks 1 day. I remember there was no heartbeat.
We lost our first baby, but they have never left me. I still have dreams about them (It is always a little boy). We lost our first baby, but I still carry them with me. Everyday. We lost our first baby and it is coloring our experience of carrying our second.
I was told it happens (25% of the time) I was told it was for the best. I was told there was nothing physically wrong with me. I was told nothing was stopping me from carrying as many healthy babies as I wished to have. I was not told that my memories from miscarriage would dog every step of my next pregnancy. They do. But I am hoping the sharing of them and the journey we are now on will help lessen their sharpness.
I never want to, nor will I, ever forget the baby we lost. But I cannot let the memories of our first steal any of the joy from the memories of our second.
So here goes. We’re Pregnant!!!!
theonequarter 