Too Beautiful for Earth

Three years and two days ago, my life changed forever. I found out I was going to be a mommy. I was so happy. Words cannot even begin to describe how I felt. The next day, I got up super early to schedule an appointment at my local health department. They told me to come in in two hours. I went. I was so excited. They confirmed my pregnancy and told me that I was approximately five weeks and two days pregnant. They scheduled me with an OBGYN two weeks later. I went for my ultrasound to make sure everything was fine with the baby. It was. I was seven weeks and five days. I got to see and hear my tiny little baby’s heartbeat. I cried like a baby. It was the most magical sound I have ever heard. Even to this day.

For the next few weeks, everything was fine. All of my health department checkups were fine. I was gaining weight like I needed to be. I started to even develop a baby bump! I could no longer fit my jeans. I ate everything in sight. But not before I checked to see if it was good for baby. I was doing everything right. I quit smoking, I quit drinking pop. I only ate what was good for baby. My HANDS worker was surprised at how good I was doing for my baby. Everything was as it should be. Until Mother’s Day.

On Mother’s Day, I had a scare that sent me directly to the emergency room. I passed a tiny blood clot. So tiny I almost didn’t see it. It scared me, so I went. The doctors assured me that everything was fine. They would do an ultrasound to make sure they were right. They did an ultrasound. They told me it was good. Baby was fine and healthy. But I knew they were wrong. I saw the ultrasound. Yes, my baby had a heartbeat, but it wasn’t strong. My baby’s heart rate was 107. When I had my first ultrasound, just weeks before, the heart rate was 156. My first ultrasound also indicated that I was seven weeks and five days pregnant. This ultrasound revealed that I was only six weeks and five days. The Doctor was rude and refused to listen to me. I showed him a picture of my last ultrasound, but he wouldn’t even look. He checked my cervix. It was closed. He said that was a good sign and released me.

Not even 24 hours after leaving the hospital, my baby's doctor called me and asked if I could come in immediately. I did. They checked for a heartbeat with the doppler and told me the heart rate was 124. That was a good sign to me. The heart rate was stronger than last night. No. When she did my ultrasound, she realized that she made a mistake. The heart rate that was 124 was mine. My baby was so tiny. My baby was upside down and pressed against my cervix. My baby had no heartbeat.

The doctor told me that my baby’s heart had stopped beating some time ago. My baby was trying to pass itself, but my cervix would not open to allow that. My baby had started to dissolve, causing a minor infection. She said that I could wait and see if my cervix would open, but that may not happen, or I could come back in at six AM the next morning and have a D&C. I decided to have the surgery. I couldn’t stand the thought of my little baby being inside of me like that. I spent the night awake, crying, talking to my little baby. Telling my little baby how sorry I was. My heart was broken. It was shattered.

The next morning, I went in for my D&C. It was awful. They did my surgery on the Labor and Delivery floor. As they were rolling me back to prep me for surgery, they took me past all the incubators where the babies go after they are delivered in the exact room I had to say goodbye. When I woke up, I could hear babies crying. As if they were mourning with me. As if they knew that my baby would never be able to cry. I left the hospital that day a completely different person. I left empty, hopeless, miserable, depressed, angry. I can’t even tell you all the emotions that I was feeling. I went home and locked myself in my room and cried.

I had to go somewhere to let all my emotions out. I remember looking at all my baby stuff in my room. I remember crying so hard I became weak. I remember falling to the ground and punching the floor repeatedly. I remember asking God why. Nobody understood what I was feeling. They just kept telling me it wasn’t my time. I can have another one. I knew it wouldn’t be the same if I got pregnant again. And it honestly wasn’t. I found out I was pregnant again four months later. With the due date of five days past the anniversary of my D&C. My neighbors told me it was meant to be. The dates were a sign from God. I didn’t know how I felt about it.

Part of me felt almost guilty because I didn’t truly know if I could love this one as much as I loved the first. I didn’t know if I could look at my child and wonder if my first would have looked similar. I didn’t feel the same with this one. I went to the health department and they told me I was five weeks and two days pregnant. I had the same doctors and they were so excited that I was pregnant again. Where my last pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, I had to go weekly this time. None of my appointments were good. I wasn’t gaining weight. I was actually losing a lot of weight. I was sick all the time. And then it started. I was around 8 weeks pregnant when I started cramping bad. Having sharp pains that would make me curl up in a ball and not even be able to move. Then, I started bleeding.

Over the next week, I was at two different hospitals multiple times. They always told me it was fine. Bleeding is normal. The pain got worse. I knew what was going on. No matter what anybody told me, I knew. I had an appointment coming up in less than a week for an ultrasound. I was just going to deal with it and wait. The night before my appointment, I passed my baby. I went to the bathroom to “pee” and ended up pouring blood for a moment and I had a sharp pain. Then it was over. I looked down and there my baby was. Or at least, what my baby was developing into. When I went to the doctor, they did an ultrasound and told me I was not pregnant. I showed her a picture of what I passed and she confirmed that I had passed my “pregnancy.”

This has been over was years ago and my heart still breaks almost daily. Every day I wonder what my children would have looked like. Every day I question whether or not I’ll ever get to experience motherhood. And then, I question whether or not I could even handle another pregnancy. Physically or emotionally. When I find out that someone is pregnant, I congratulate them and act happy. But as soon as I’m alone, I can let out how I really feel. Yes, I’m happy that they are pregnant. But it makes me so mad at myself.

Some days, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. Other days, all I can do is stare at myself in the mirror and wonder what is so wrong with me that I can’t even do the one thing that I, as a woman, am supposed to do. The one thing I want the most in life is to be a mom. I honestly don’t want anything more than that. I just want a family and it absolutely kills me that I may never be able to carry a full-term pregnancy.

The thing that hurts the most about losing a baby is that, over time, people forget. I’m left with this huge hole in my heart and that can’t be filled, and nobody seems to know why. Nobody mentions it. Nobody asks how I’m doing. Nothing. Like my babies never even mattered. When in reality, on Mother’s Day, I lose it. On my due dates, I’m a mess. On my miscarriage dates, I don’t know what to do with myself. I just want a baby and nobody knows. I don’t talk about it because nobody cares. And why talk about how much I want a baby, when everybody knows it would take a miracle from God for that to even be able to happen?