We were sitting at the dinner table having a nice family dinner as we do each night. I decided it was okay to tell Brett about something that had been on my mind, something that had been nagging me… I told him all about how I was jealous of one of my friends. Jealous because she was 11 weeks pregnant and just a week shy of the “safe” zone and I was only 7 weeks along. I wanted so badly to be in the “safe zone.” So badly to announce to the world that we were expecting our second child.
About one minute later, and I am not even exaggerating, which I tend to do, I felt it. I ran to the bathroom. Brett at this point still had no idea what was going on. I looked down, and I was right. There was blood everywhere. It was gushing out of me. I yelled for Brett to come. We both stared having no idea what was going on. We both started to bawl. We just knew it, we just knew we had lost the baby. Brett immediately got on the phone with the IVF clinic and made arrangements for me to come in for an ultrasound in the morning.
Brett jumped in his car and raced to the store to buy some feminine products so that I could rest on the couch. I cried. No, I bawled. The tears didn’t stop. After all of that work. After all of those shots. After all of that money. The baby’s journey was over. I loved this baby more than words could describe. The nurse had told me to think positively, that this happens sometimes. I have no idea how that is possible as I am bleeding everywhere. The exact thing that no pregnant women wants to see. She asked me if I had felt cramping. Had I? Maybe. Maybe that little feeling is a cramp? Maybe it’s just a stomach ache?
The next morning we dropped our son Nolan off at daycare and drove in silence to the clinic. We tried. We tried to remind each other that it could be okay. We tried to think positively. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle going where we were going without telling my parents. So I called them. My mom knew immediately that something was wrong. I cried. I could hardly tell her what was going on, but I did.
We waited and waited for the ultrasound tech to be ready as we held hands and tapped our toes anxiously. She brought us back. I could hardly look. All I wanted to see was my happily growing baby for the first time. A baby that measured right on track at 7 weeks. A heartbeat that was perfect just as we saw Nolan’s for the first time. . .
And that is what we saw.
We were “safe”, for now.