After Caroline arrived, we had tossed the idea around of having a 4th child. Each of us at one point or another felt that a 4th was the way to go and each of us at one point or another felt that our family was complete with 3. We seemed to never be completely on the same page with this decision.
The method of birth control I was using was causing some unwanted side effects and I decided I was not going to take it anymore. This decision pretty much eliminated any type of hormonal birth control and I strongly suggested to Matthew that if he did not want any more children, he needed to take action. Otherwise, I was fine with seeing what might happen... for a little while (we are both getting older after all).
He scheduled his appointment. I had really mixed feelings about it, to be honest. I prayed that God would direct the decision and the action to be taken. Right before the appointment he canceled. He said he just couldn't do it. We continued on with life.
A few months went by and suddenly there was a positive pregnancy test. Within a week, it was clear this was not going to be a viable pregnancy. I didn't really grieve. It happened so quickly I had not even had time to wrap my head around it. We just moved right on. Matthew decided to make another appointment, but had to reschedule because he was going to be traveling for work right after the date.
The next month I opened the refrigerator door one morning and smelled "that smell". A few more days went by and I was greeted with mild waves of "that feeling" every now and then. I figured the odds were small.... but I took one anyway. "+ Yes" was the answer I received on the digital test. Over the next few weeks I took about a million more. Seriously, I probably took 20 or more altogether. It appeared this was actually going to take. I was pregnant with our 4th child.
I had mixed feelings. I was nervous. I was afraid of how people would react. I was excited. I was
happy. I was afraid. We went to the doctor and there was a healthy heartbeat at 7 weeks. Everything looked great. But, still, I had this gnawing feeling. I was having trouble getting attached. I was almost in denial.
The weeks went by. I ordered my home doppler. I listened to the heartbeat. I felt terrible. I was SO tired. I went to bed right after Caroline most nights and sometimes I was so tired that I was nearly in tears by the time I put her to bed (at 7-7:30). Matthew wanted to start sharing the news, but I was nervous. We told just a very few people.
The weeks went by. I listened to the heartbeat. I grew more confident and my belly grew. I guess that happens when it's your 4th baby and your 7th pregnancy (8, if you count the previous month although that one would probably not have affected my size too much), and your youngest is less than 18 months old. I was beginning to wonder how long I could actually hide this. It was getting pretty obvious, but I knew people would be afraid to actually say anything.
Around 10 weeks, I started having spells of feeling a little better. I began to not be as tired. I had moments when I was not nauseous 24/7. I began to be able to eat a little more. I began to feel relief. I had almost made it. I began to grow more excited. It was almost time for the fun part. Time for me to breathe a sigh of relief, feel better, share the news, break out the maternity clothes. But, still, I had this little gnawing feeling. I worried and fretted over which 1st trimester tests to have done. Should we pay for the one that insurance didn't cover that would give us more complete information? Why? I knew it wouldn't change anything about how we decided to proceed, but for some reason I felt like I needed to know. More than with any other pregnancy. With every other one I either didn't worry about it all or I just had a brief passing worry. I told myself it was because I was older. My risk was higher and I was just worrying myself over nothing. Yet, at night I worried about carrying a baby to term or late into pregnancy with a fatal diagnosis. Could I be strong enough? What would it do to our family, to Matthew, to our children? I angrily pushed those thoughts away... why would I think about such a horrible thing? I continued to pray for this baby. I prayed this would be a healthy baby. I prayed his/her bones were growing healthy and strong and his/her heart was growing stronger and his/her brain was developing as it should.
Matthew's rescheduled appointment was coming up. I would be a little over 11 weeks. I asked him, how will you feel if you go through with this and something happens and we lose this baby? He answered, I will feel like we've been blessed with 3 wonderful children. I felt the same way. To be honest, the first trimester was SO hard this time. I don't even know why because I was less sick than I had been some other times, but maybe having a young child, maybe being 38, I don't know. I just knew I felt like I could not do this again. This was my last time. I think Matthew really felt like we were safe. He had been "letting it slip" to more and more people, even though I kept telling him not to. He was pressuring me to tell the older kids, dropping little hints, but I kept telling him not to. The night before his appointment I listened to the heartbeat. It was strong. 157. Perfect. The sound filled me with joy and peace and confidence.
The next day he went through with his appointment. It was Friday the 13th. That night, as he recovered, I was feeling a little superstitious, so even though I usually didn't listen every day, I got the doppler out. For the first time in 3 healthy pregnancies I could not find the heartbeat. All I could hear was my own. I searched for quite a while with no luck. I told myself baby had moved somewhere I couldn't find him/her. I told myself he/she was hiding behind the placenta. I put the doppler away. I tried again the next morning. Nothing. I searched the Internet and found countless stories of not finding it and everything being perfectly fine. I was not trained like a medical professional is and even they have trouble at this stage of pregnancy sometimes. My machine might not be the same quality. I might have an anterior placenta blocking baby. Baby might have turned with its spine out so that bone was blocking the doppler waves. Baby might have moved really low so that my bone was blocking. There were a million reasons. I told myself that was all it was. I prayed and tried to stay calm. My own dr had not been able to find Caroline's at 16 weeks after all and ultrasound showed that she was in fact turned with her spine out. But, a little voice whispered to me that I've always been able to find it. Always. Earlier than the Internet said I should be able to. Even on the morning of the day when the dr couldn't find Caroline's. But, I pushed that voice aside and told myself, "What are the odds? That I would lose
another baby right on the cusp of the "safe" period? That I would lose
another after hearing a healthy heartbeat, when your odds are supposed to drop to less than 5%? That I would lose this baby, when everything to this point had been perfect? That I would lose this baby when I just heard a perfect heartbeat on Thursday? That I would lose this baby on the
exact same day that my husband took action to ensure that this baby would be the last? That I would lose this baby that we were not trying for and God blessed us with anyway? That this would happen to me
again?" But, as the weekend wore on and I tried again and again... with a full bladder, with an empty bladder, with an empty stomach, with a full stomach, after drinking something cold, after drinking something sugary, in different positions and still all I heard was my own heartbeat, I began to think that the odds were not in my favor. A voice whispered to me that in situations like this, the odds are
usually not in your favor. Still I tried to stay calm. I tried not to fear. I prayed. I told God I trusted His plan and I did. I begged God to just let me find that heartbeat to put my silly worry at ease. I told God I had faith, even when I couldn't find the heartbeat that He was protecting my baby, protecting me, had a plan for me, a plan not to harm me, a plan to give me hope and a future. I broke down in the car on the way home from dropping Chloe off at choir on Sunday and told my baby through my tears that I wanted to meet him/her on Earth, not in Heaven. I wanted to hold him/her. I wanted to know him/her. I wanted to see Caroline be a big sister. I begged my baby not to leave me. I begged God not to take my baby away. Then I wiped my tears and told God that I trusted Him.
I went to work on Monday. I told myself everything was ok. It was a week until my next appointment. Matthew urged me to call the dr. I told him they would not see me. They would be angry that I was using a home doppler against their advice. They would tell me that I was not trained to use it and that there were a million reasons I might be having trouble finding the heartbeat. They would tell me that they even have trouble finding it often in the 10-12 week range. They would tell me everything was probably fine. He told me not to even tell them about the doppler, just to say I was feeling anxious. I told him they were not going to bring me in for an expensive ultrasound just because I was feeling anxious. I think part of me felt like I didn't want to go because as long as I didn't there was still hope. There was still another chance for that to be the time I put the doppler to my belly and found it right away. And we would laugh about how silly I was for being so afraid. It was hard to stay calm and positive if I admitted I needed to call the dr. And yet I knew, with increasing certainty that my baby was gone. Somewhere in the middle of that brief breakdown in the car, even as I was begging my baby to stay, I knew he/she was gone. Somewhere in the middle of that brief breakdown, I said goodbye. Somewhere between, "please don't take my baby... and I trust you." I accepted that God did have a plan for me, a plan not to harm me, a plan to give me hope and a future... but it may not include my baby. It may include heartache and grief and tears, yes
again, but joy would come in the morning. It may very well be a plan that I could not understand, but I would trust Him still. I think what finally convinced me to call is when Matthew said he told the people at work who were trying to reassure him that there were a whole bunch of reasons for not finding it, that he knew all of that, but I was always right about these things. That suddenly hit me. What was my heart telling me? My heart was telling me my baby was gone. And he was right, I was always right. I knew long before I should have every single time that I was pregnant. Even when the test said negative the first time with Evan, I knew. Although this was the 11th month in the row the test had said negative and I had no reason to think it was anything other than negative, I knew. I knew that I was losing my babies each time (except the first one), each time my head tried to convince my heart that it was wrong, but it was right. I knew when my babies were going to make it even when there was spotting and reason to be afraid. My head told my heart to be careful because I might be wrong and I might lose them, but my heart knew. I knew when this baby's due date would be even though it didn't exactly line up with my last cycle. I knew my body. I knew my heart. I just knew. I desperately hoped I was wrong. Finally, on Tuesday morning I called the dr. The nurse was very kind and got me in that day. Matthew drove me to the appointment.
The nurse who received me was not quite as kind to be honest, she acted a little annoyed by my presence and seemed confused about what I was doing there. She commented about my high blood pressure. I told her I was a little nervous. The Nurse Practitioner came in the office and asked what she could do to help today. Would hearing the heartbeat on the doppler help? Well, yes, it would, but I was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen. I looked her in the eye and told her I just needed to know either way. She tried to reassure me as she used the doppler (all those reasons why she might not hear it, you know). She told me she wasn't going to try for very long. No sense in worrying us any longer than necessary. Let's just go to the ultrasound and then we can say that this baby was a stinker right from the beginning, scaring his/her momma. I told her I hoped that was what we would say. But I knew.
I hoped, oh how I hoped, to be wrong. I hoped so much that the odds were in my favor this time. I wanted to be one of those people who have these scares, but everything works out ok. But I knew. As soon as I saw my sweet baby on the screen, it was confirmed. I was right. There was a perfect little baby. Lying on its side, facing us. Head, body, arms, legs, all perfect. But no heartbeat. The Nurse Practitioner put her hand on my leg. They zoomed in to get a really close look. Finally, she said, Amanda, I know you are seeing what we are seeing. I'm so sorry.
I didn't even cry. I would say I was in shock, but I really wasn't. I knew. Somewhere over the course of that weekend I had already said goodbye. I had already decided I was going to have to trust God's plan, even though it was probably not going to be what I wanted. Matthew was crying. This was his first time seeing a baby on the screen with no heartbeat. It is hard to describe how it feels to see what looks like a perfect baby that you could cradle in your arms there with no heartbeat.
The ultrasound tech took some measurements. "It must have happened very recently", she said. I replied, "It happened Friday." The Nurse Practitioner patted my leg, "You poor thing, had to wait all weekend", she said. I said, "Thank you for bringing me in. I was afraid you would not see me." She said, "We trust our mother's instincts. We listen to our mothers." How wise, I thought. A mother's instinct is a powerful thing. I noticed the ultrasound tech was measuring the nuchal fold (an indicator for chromosomal abnormalities), I didn't say anything. The Nurse Practitioner said, "I don't see anything right off that would indicate a reason. But, if you want they can do some testing." We both answered, that was not necessary. This was our last baby. There was no real reason to know why. The only thing we needed to know is that it was not to be. It was not God's plan. Now, we had to trust Him. The ultrasound tech quietly said, "the nuchal fold is large". The Nurse Practitioner said, "That is sometimes an indicator of a chromosomal abnormality, but we don't know for sure." But I knew. I think I had known all along. My sweet baby.
We went into an office. The Nurse Practitioner got a physician who could discuss and schedule a d&c for me. This was their suggestion, but I knew already it was what I wanted. I had been through this before. I knew what they would tell me miscarrying a baby at 12 weeks was like. And although a part of me had wished to go through the experience the first time. To feel the physical pain. To be able to hold my tiny baby in my palm. To bury my child. This time, I knew I couldn't do it. I had babies at home I needed to care for. I had children old enough to know something was happening to their mommy. I had to go back to work to a school full of teachers and students who knew nothing about what was happening. Life had to go on. I couldn't afford to feel the pain. I couldn't afford to grieve. I couldn't afford to fall apart. t focused on the life that had to go on and pushed the thoughts away of the life that had gone. I asked them to schedule the D&C as soon as possible. Matthew and I left the office and he called or texted all of the people who he had told. I called my boss to explain why I would not be back to work for a few days and I called my parents and texted my best friend with the news and told her I didn't feel like talking. That is the complete list of people I had told. Life could go on and most people would not even know what had happened. I told myself I had made the right decision not telling people. It saved me from having to tell everyone what had happened. It saved me from the pity, the uncomfortableness, the comments from those who didn't quite know what to say. And yet....
It felt wrong. I felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. It was as if it had never been. It was as if the last few weeks had been a dream and nothing at all had changed in our lives. Except it had. But, I tried to pretend it had not. Practically no one had known. I would go on as if nothing had happened. Except it had. But, I wasn't ready to face it yet. We went and had nice lunch and then went home and spent the evening with our children. My D&C was the next day. I still had not cried. I was fine, I told everyone. I was doing just fine. I was ok. Really, I was. And I convinced myself I was. By the next day, I would not be pregnant anymore. I would never be pregnant again. And I was fine.
The next day was tough. I couldn't eat or drink anything and we weren't to go to the hospital until 12:00. I was still very nauseous, especially when I didn't eat. Finally, we arrived in the pre-op prep area. I was looking forward to my IV. Hoping it would help me feel a little better. The nurse was telling me what to put on, take off, etc, and I was only half listening, suddenly, as I headed into the bathroom to change into my gown, she said, "I'm so sorry for your loss." I walked into the bathroom and lost it. My loss. Here I was again. About to have my baby, my last baby removed from my body. I cried and then I suddenly brushed the tears off... I am fine, I told myself. Those were the first tears I had shed since I knew for sure my baby was gone. I got dressed came out and we chatted until time for my surgery. The surgery was uneventful, except for a little bleeding. Matthew stopped to get me something to eat and we went home to our children. Evan and Chloe were very concerned about what was happening and they were not accepting our vague answers. I went to bed, but we knew the next day we were probably going to have to tell them something.
The next morning as they got ready for school, Evan and Chloe kept pressuring us for information. Finally, I told them what had happened. They were both a little upset. They were also both really sweet to me. To be honest I felt... better... that they knew. Matthew and I watched movies all day together as I continued to recover from the anesthesia. I went back to work on Friday. I gradually told a few more people... my dad, my closest friends.. what had happened. Each time I spoke about it I felt a little better. Like a little bit of weight was lifted. Like my baby was a little more known. A little more real.
Somewhere over the weekend, it hit me. My baby was gone. I cried in private, but the tears came. Several times they came. My best friend texted me to see how I was doing. How to answer that question... I replied, "I have my moments. I just wish things could be different." And that pretty much sums it up the best way possible, I guess. I wish I were still pregnant, but I don't want to
get pregnant again. I wish I could have a 4th baby, but only if he/she could be born near August 3. I wish my belly were still growing and I was sharing my happy news with all my friends and family. I wish I were wearing cute maternity clothes instead of trying to lose weight so I can fit in my regular clothes. I wish... things were different. I wish what I thought was God's plan was actually His plan for me, for our family, for our baby. I wish I could meet my baby on Earth instead of in Heaven. I'm sad.
And yet.... I am ok. I know God has a plan for me. It's hard to understand. I don't know why. I can't answer that. I will never be able to answer why he gave us our baby just to take it away. Maybe he spared us from something much more painful. How hard would it have been to hear in a few weeks that our perfect baby that we saw on the ultrasound screen moving and kicking away had a chromosomal disorder. One that he/she likely wouldn't survive or would be disabled with. How much harder would it have been to find out we had lost our baby months from now. To have to deliver my sleeping baby and hold him/her in my arms and say goodbye. To have to deliver my baby alive and hold him/her until Jesus called him/her home. To have to watch my baby suffer and struggle for life. To fight for my child. to care for my child, to worry who would care for him/her after I was gone. Perhaps God's plan for me was to spare me a greater hurt, to spare my family a greater hurt. I don't know. I will likely never know, but I trust Him. That is my faith. I know he has plans for hope and a future for me, for our family, and that I will meet our baby someday. I have
six precious souls waiting for me to meet in Heaven. I am so blessed with the three that I get to know and love here on Earth. Our family is perfect. It is complete. And yet... there is still the memory. There will always be the memory. Of what might have been.
"I was for just a moment, the mother of a child who lived and moved and meant so much if only for a while."
Fly, fly little wing
Fly beyond imagining
The softest cloud, the whitest dove
Upon the wind of heaven's love
Past the planets and the stars
Leave this lonely world of ours
Escape the sorrow and the pain
And fly again
Fly, fly precious one
Your endless journey has begun
Take your gentle happiness
Far too beautiful for this
Cross over to the other shore
There is peace forevermore
But hold this memory bittersweet
Until we meet
Fly, fly do not fear
Don't waste a breath, don't shed a tear
Your heart is pure, your soul is free
Be on your way, don't wait for me
Above the universe you'll climb
On beyond the hands of time
The moon will rise, the sun will set
But I won't forget
Fly, fly little wing
Fly where only angels sing
Fly away, the time is right
Go now, find the light
Sweet baby, I wish I could have met you here on Earth. I wish I could have seen your beautiful face and smelled your sweet head and kissed your sweet lips. I wish things could have been different.
(Dated on the date we learned our angel was gone)
