To the baby I never got to meet.
I was 2 days late but never expected a positive pregnancy test. Shock is an understatement. There was no elaborate announcement. I didn’t get your dads reaction on video. I just walked into the garage and said “Bobby, I’m pregnant”. He was so happy. I was too. But I was also scared.
A 4 year old, 2 year old, and a new baby. I was worried about staying afloat.
I spent 5 days trying to make sense of it. When? How? My babies will have a new brother or sister. They are going to be so excited. But I’m scared. Will we be okay? Will I be okay? Will the baby be okay? Pregnancy? Postpartum? Please God let it be better. We have been so back and worth about whether we would add to our family. The decision was made of for us. But I still felt scared.
I went to the library. I checked out three books on pregnancy and postpartum. My shock and fear was turning into acceptance and excitement. I was going to do everything I could to make this a healthy pregnancy.
One last baby. We can do this.
One morning, I woke up spotting. Just a small amount. I knew that could be normal. But when the bleeding didn’t stop, I knew it wasn’t. I took a blood test that confirmed something I knew was happening…
Miscarriage.
My little surprise baby stopped growing. I would never get to hold them. See their sweet face for the first time. Kiss their cheeks. Watch them grow.
It was over as quick as it began. And I had to process what was and what no longer is.
Right now it feels like a silent quietness I’m holding within me. I’ve had feelings of sadness, guilt for my initial reaction of shock and fear, questions, lots of questions. Why did this have to happen? Why did this have to potentially be my last experience with pregnancy? Did I do something wrong? Is this my fault?
One week ago I found out I was having a baby. Today, I no longer am.
The comfort I have found from other women who have experienced the same thing has been unmatched. Thank you. I needed you.
One friend said it must feel like grief with faith. It does. It’s trusting, even if I do not understand. Not stopping myself from feeling anger or sadness. Never muting myself but allowing myself to feel it all.
So to you baby, the baby I never got to meet. I just want you to know that you were loved and wanted. And I envisioned you sleeping on my chest. I envisioned you nestled in the arms of your brother and sister. I envisioned the unexpected but beautiful completion of our family. I saw it. And I can’t or won’t unsee it. I saw what could have been. And I’ll never forget.
I might not be able to hold you today, but I’m holding onto the hope that I will someday.
With love,
Jordan
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