unabashedly uncorked: your daily dose of EPH!

I’ve been fighting an internal fight for the past few days; wondering if I should share this with you all. You see, I don’t want to offend anyone with my story. It’s tough, it’s deep, it’s very personal, and it sucks. However, I find closure in my writing. I’m sharing for “moving on’s” sake instead of trying to evoke sympathy from you— my dear friends. Because that’s the last thing I want to do. The last thing I want right now if for people to feel sorry for me.

I just want to be able to share my journey and then quietly close this chapter and move on…

Blake and I found out that we were expecting at the beginning of the summer. A Baby H!? Could it be?! We were overjoyed and terrified and exhausted all rolled into one big ball of overcautious nervousness. I called the doctor the day we found out to make our first appointment and was stunned to learn that we had to wait 6 more weeks [6 weeks?! REALLY!!!] before we were able to see the doctor and hear the sprout’s heartbeat for the first time. I immediately went to the bookstore to purchase What to Expect to use as some sort of guidance as to what I was/ wasn’t allowed to do. I was freaking clueless at this whole “growing a child” business.

Our first appointment came and went [July 20th]. I watched my husband’s face light up like a Christmas tree as we saw a tiny body and heard the flutter of one healthy heartbeat. I finally felt relief for this little person growing in my body and for my next [and most important] role that I would play as Mommy.

But last week, that all came crashing to a screeching halt. At our second appointment, as I was laying all alone in that terrible gown [that ties in the back], there was no heartbeat. Our precious little baby was gone.

And this time last Thursday I was waking up in a cold hospital with nurses surrounding me. I was crying for sadness and relief as my poor husband looked at me with tears running down his cheeks. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. This is supposed to be the happiest time of our lives.

And yet, it wasn’t. It isn’t. This sucks. This feeling of loneliness and emptiness and sorrow that has made it’s place in my everyday. The waking up every morning and having to remind yourself that it was all just a dream. That you’ve had the joy of becoming a Momma yanked right out from under you.

Unbeknownst to me, we requested to have pathology results done on Baby H. I got a call on Tuesday afternoon from my Doctor [and surgeon] and what he had to say has indeed brought me some closure. Our little one had chromosomal deficiencies so great that s/he couldn’t have possibly survived. Ever. Period. End of story.

While I said over and over that I didn’t need to know exactly what happened to the baby, in reality, I did. My Type-A personality needed to know that it wasn’t anything I did wrong. That I could stop replaying the previous 19 days for something I lifted wrong, an expired egg that I’d eaten, a run that had gone too long. I’ve had a weight lifted off of my chest in learning that I couldn’t have done anything to save our child.

I’ve stopped myself several times from saying that this isn’t fair. This wasn’t our time to be parents. It sucks and it’s hard and it’s an exposed nerve. But I can’t say for one second that this isn’t fair. What isn’t fair is a 15 year old that has so much living to do who is diagnosed with leukemia. What isn’t fair is losing your father too soon. What isn’t fair is a mother losing her entire family in a Christmas morning blaze. This is hard, we will heal, and one day we will hopefully have a healthy, happy child of our own.

Thank you all for the sweet notes and words of encouragement you’ve sent over the past few days. They all mean more than you will ever know. As I continue to heal, please know how much this little community [and your friendship] means to me. I promise I’ll be back to my old, chipper self sometime soon. In the meantime, mad love and sweet wishes to you all.

oxo

EWPH