On July 5th I got a positive pregnancy test after 3 cycles of trying to conceive. We were ecstatic. Andrew and Drew are both December babies, and me and this new little peanut were going to share March as our birth month...it was going to be perfect! Within the week we told family and close friends, and their excitement was overwhelming. Since I had found out so early, I had to wait three weeks before my first doctors appt. To make time go a bit faster, I asked my friend Ashley to take 'big brother' pics of Drew, and a few bump pics every 4 weeks so that I could properly document this pregnancy (the only pics I had being pregnant with Drew were bathroom selfies- half of which the toilet seat was up).
After what seemed like forever, it was finally time for our first appt. We were nervous, but so relieved to see our perfect little dot of a baby with a bright flickering heartbeat. My doctor turned up the volume so we could hear the galloping sound of our babies beating heart. There is nothing sweeter than the sound of life, especially when it's nestled snug inside of you. Baby measured 6w1d and looked healthy as can be, so we scheduled an appt for exactly 3 weeks later, and after a stop at Target, we headed home.
The following week passed slowly, that is, until one of my very best friends, Karissa, text me a picture of her positive pregnancy test! She had recently gone through a miscarriage, so this was huge, and I was so, so excited! Talks of baby names, nursery designs, and announcement ideas brought me quickly into week 8 of my pregnancy. Baby was now the size of a raspberry, and since there was still a heartbeat, my chance of miscarriage dropped to less than 5%.
I'm typically a pretty private person. I'm not huge on sharing personal, life events through social media, only because it feels so impersonal and disconnected, but I had the cutest announcement picture of Drew reading a 'big brother' book, and less than 5% seemed like pretty good odds, so I decided to share our exciting news with everyone through Instagram. The response from everyone was overwhelming. I'm not a crier, but I actually cried at how many people truly loved and supported us and we're genuinely happy for our family.
Something I was so against doing ended up feeling more right than anything. Now, looking back, I think it was God's way of setting me up to be open and honest with those I'm not comfortable being open and honest with- myself included. His way of pushing me out of my comfort zone. His way of growing me, tearing down my previous boundaries, and making new ones.
Two days after I posted our pregnancy announcement, Karissa miscarried her precious baby. My heart was shattered. It just didn't make sense. Why her? Why twice in a row? With each tear of sorrow I cried for her, I cried a tear of thankfulness for the precious life growing perfectly inside of me.
After that, week 8 seemed to fly by. Maybe it was the exhaustion of knowing someone I loved was in more emotional pain than I could begin to imagine, or maybe it was the anticipation of my quickly approaching 9w1d appointment. Either way, Monday rolled around and I felt like an 5 year old on Christmas Eve. I could hardly sleep I was so excited.
Andrew decided to stay and work, since this was just a basic, routine appt. We already knew the baby had a heartbeat. I'd had no signs of anything alarming, and the chances of anything going wrong now were between 2-3%. I picked up my mom, and we headed to Fresno, arriving right on time for my appointment. They called me back right away, and within five minutes she began doing the ultrasound. I immediately saw our perfect, much larger than last time baby, with it's huge head, tiny little arm and leg nubs. It looked exactly like Drew had at that gestation, but after a few seconds I got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. The baby wasn't moving, at all, and I couldn't see a flicker of anything where the heart should have been. Before my mind could race too far, I felt my doctor softly touch my leg, and I knew. She didn't have to say a word, but I listened as she spoke as tenderly as she knew how. 'I'm not seeing a heartbeat right now, Rhea. I'm so sorry.' The room went silent. I stared at my perfect little green olive, measuring exactly 9w1d. I didn't understand.
She explained to me that she was 99.9% positive it was a heart defect, as the 9th week is most common for things of that sort to surface. But, I didn't care. I didn't care what it was. I would have given it my heart. I would have done anything. I still would. I just wanted it back. I prayed that God would intervene, that it would miraculously start beating again, and I believed with every fiber of my being that it would. But, it didn't. It was oner, and I was crushed.
The rest of the day consisted of crying more tears than I had ever cried in my entire life combined. I felt sorry for Andrew, for Drew, and for myself. I begged God to give our baby back to us. I didn't care if it had something wrong with it or not, I wanted this baby, the one inside of me this very second. I didn't understand.
The image of my perfect baby has yet to leave my mind, and I know that it never will. Whether my eyes are opened or closed, it's all that I can see. I woke up three times throughout the night wondering if maybe it had all been a dream, but I knew deep down it wasn't.
I will soon be having a D&C done to bring this journey to a close. Much different than the ending I had hoped for, which consisted of me snuggling a tiny, warm newborn in my arms. The only comfort I have throughout all of this is knowing without a shadow of a doubt that when I leave this Earth I will be greeted by the most beautiful baby boy or girl at the gates of Heaven. Until then, I'll miss and think of you every single day.
I think we all live as if we're invincible. I know I do, anyways. I make plans for next week and next year because I KNOW that I'm going to be here. Some nights I go to bed in the middle of a fight with someone I love, because I KNOW that we'll both wake up in the morning. I plan exactly when I want to have my babies, because I KNOW that I can get pregnant when I feel like it. When I'm pregnant I plan out names and nurseries, because I KNOW that I'm going to deliver a perfectly healthy baby at 40 weeks. If this experience has taught me anything, it's that the only thing I KNOW is that I don't know anything past this exact moment, and as scary as that is, it's okay.
We are all guilty of getting caught up in the petty things, especially when it comes to pregnancy and babies.
I don't want a baby during the holidays, because who wants to share their birthday with Christmas.
I want a girl because I already have a boy.
I want a boy because I already have a girl.
How dare she name her kid that, that was my name!
I hope the baby has blue eyes.
I hope it has curly hair.
You get the picture, I could go on for days.
Before this, I was guilty of stressing over similar things, and for that I'm utterly ashamed. I'd give anything for my baby to just be alive like it was three days ago. I'd give anything to see Drew run and play with his baby brother or sister years from now. Anything.
I don't know why these things happen, but I do know that if me going through this means one less person has to know the devastation and gut wrenching heartache losing a baby brings, then so be it. I have never experienced such excruciating pain in my life, and my heart goes out to all of you who can relate.
I used to question why bad things happen to good people, but I now realize that being a good person does not make you a better person. It doesn't make you immune to the hardships and trials life throws at us. It doesn't re route your path when it begins to get rough and windy. We don't get a badge of honor or a plaque of acknowledgment. The only privilege to facing the bad as a good person is perception. We see the light. Maybe not right away, maybe not even within seeing distance, but we know it's there. And because of the good within us, we will find it.
After what seemed like forever, it was finally time for our first appt. We were nervous, but so relieved to see our perfect little dot of a baby with a bright flickering heartbeat. My doctor turned up the volume so we could hear the galloping sound of our babies beating heart. There is nothing sweeter than the sound of life, especially when it's nestled snug inside of you. Baby measured 6w1d and looked healthy as can be, so we scheduled an appt for exactly 3 weeks later, and after a stop at Target, we headed home.
The following week passed slowly, that is, until one of my very best friends, Karissa, text me a picture of her positive pregnancy test! She had recently gone through a miscarriage, so this was huge, and I was so, so excited! Talks of baby names, nursery designs, and announcement ideas brought me quickly into week 8 of my pregnancy. Baby was now the size of a raspberry, and since there was still a heartbeat, my chance of miscarriage dropped to less than 5%.
I'm typically a pretty private person. I'm not huge on sharing personal, life events through social media, only because it feels so impersonal and disconnected, but I had the cutest announcement picture of Drew reading a 'big brother' book, and less than 5% seemed like pretty good odds, so I decided to share our exciting news with everyone through Instagram. The response from everyone was overwhelming. I'm not a crier, but I actually cried at how many people truly loved and supported us and we're genuinely happy for our family.
Something I was so against doing ended up feeling more right than anything. Now, looking back, I think it was God's way of setting me up to be open and honest with those I'm not comfortable being open and honest with- myself included. His way of pushing me out of my comfort zone. His way of growing me, tearing down my previous boundaries, and making new ones.
Two days after I posted our pregnancy announcement, Karissa miscarried her precious baby. My heart was shattered. It just didn't make sense. Why her? Why twice in a row? With each tear of sorrow I cried for her, I cried a tear of thankfulness for the precious life growing perfectly inside of me.
After that, week 8 seemed to fly by. Maybe it was the exhaustion of knowing someone I loved was in more emotional pain than I could begin to imagine, or maybe it was the anticipation of my quickly approaching 9w1d appointment. Either way, Monday rolled around and I felt like an 5 year old on Christmas Eve. I could hardly sleep I was so excited.
Andrew decided to stay and work, since this was just a basic, routine appt. We already knew the baby had a heartbeat. I'd had no signs of anything alarming, and the chances of anything going wrong now were between 2-3%. I picked up my mom, and we headed to Fresno, arriving right on time for my appointment. They called me back right away, and within five minutes she began doing the ultrasound. I immediately saw our perfect, much larger than last time baby, with it's huge head, tiny little arm and leg nubs. It looked exactly like Drew had at that gestation, but after a few seconds I got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. The baby wasn't moving, at all, and I couldn't see a flicker of anything where the heart should have been. Before my mind could race too far, I felt my doctor softly touch my leg, and I knew. She didn't have to say a word, but I listened as she spoke as tenderly as she knew how. 'I'm not seeing a heartbeat right now, Rhea. I'm so sorry.' The room went silent. I stared at my perfect little green olive, measuring exactly 9w1d. I didn't understand.
She explained to me that she was 99.9% positive it was a heart defect, as the 9th week is most common for things of that sort to surface. But, I didn't care. I didn't care what it was. I would have given it my heart. I would have done anything. I still would. I just wanted it back. I prayed that God would intervene, that it would miraculously start beating again, and I believed with every fiber of my being that it would. But, it didn't. It was oner, and I was crushed.
The rest of the day consisted of crying more tears than I had ever cried in my entire life combined. I felt sorry for Andrew, for Drew, and for myself. I begged God to give our baby back to us. I didn't care if it had something wrong with it or not, I wanted this baby, the one inside of me this very second. I didn't understand.
The image of my perfect baby has yet to leave my mind, and I know that it never will. Whether my eyes are opened or closed, it's all that I can see. I woke up three times throughout the night wondering if maybe it had all been a dream, but I knew deep down it wasn't.
I will soon be having a D&C done to bring this journey to a close. Much different than the ending I had hoped for, which consisted of me snuggling a tiny, warm newborn in my arms. The only comfort I have throughout all of this is knowing without a shadow of a doubt that when I leave this Earth I will be greeted by the most beautiful baby boy or girl at the gates of Heaven. Until then, I'll miss and think of you every single day.
I think we all live as if we're invincible. I know I do, anyways. I make plans for next week and next year because I KNOW that I'm going to be here. Some nights I go to bed in the middle of a fight with someone I love, because I KNOW that we'll both wake up in the morning. I plan exactly when I want to have my babies, because I KNOW that I can get pregnant when I feel like it. When I'm pregnant I plan out names and nurseries, because I KNOW that I'm going to deliver a perfectly healthy baby at 40 weeks. If this experience has taught me anything, it's that the only thing I KNOW is that I don't know anything past this exact moment, and as scary as that is, it's okay.
We are all guilty of getting caught up in the petty things, especially when it comes to pregnancy and babies.
I don't want a baby during the holidays, because who wants to share their birthday with Christmas.
I want a girl because I already have a boy.
I want a boy because I already have a girl.
How dare she name her kid that, that was my name!
I hope the baby has blue eyes.
I hope it has curly hair.
You get the picture, I could go on for days.
Before this, I was guilty of stressing over similar things, and for that I'm utterly ashamed. I'd give anything for my baby to just be alive like it was three days ago. I'd give anything to see Drew run and play with his baby brother or sister years from now. Anything.
I don't know why these things happen, but I do know that if me going through this means one less person has to know the devastation and gut wrenching heartache losing a baby brings, then so be it. I have never experienced such excruciating pain in my life, and my heart goes out to all of you who can relate.
I used to question why bad things happen to good people, but I now realize that being a good person does not make you a better person. It doesn't make you immune to the hardships and trials life throws at us. It doesn't re route your path when it begins to get rough and windy. We don't get a badge of honor or a plaque of acknowledgment. The only privilege to facing the bad as a good person is perception. We see the light. Maybe not right away, maybe not even within seeing distance, but we know it's there. And because of the good within us, we will find it.
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