I have always wanted, more than anything else, to be a mother. I dreamed of it far more than I dreamed of weddings or success. More than perfect marriages and wealth. At the age of 26 it all fell into place. Rapidly. I met Zak and the ball of perfection began to roll. It definitely hit its bumps but all minor in comparison to what it brought with it on its wild ride. So the check marks came fast for me. College degree-check. Amazing job-check. Perfect spouse- check. New home and nice cars-check. Then 3 months after the perfect wedding the biggest plus of all. The plus that comes on a home pregnancy test. It came so easily. No planning, no really trying that only people who have tried can understand. One fairly uncomplicated pregnancy completed with a safe but terrifying birth day and he was here. Bennett. My beautiful boy. Everything I have ever hoped for and dreamed of all wrapped up in a beautiful blanket of perfection.
Many things hit the back burner after the arrival of my sweet boy. Some I happily admit to some I regret throwing back there. After a tortured year of being a working mom, of days sitting in the daycare parking lot crying my husband made my dream come true. I quit my job which had once given me such pride and satisfaction for a job I new I was always meant to have. Stay at home mommy! This "job" comes with many opinions from people. The people who think your lazy, the ones who think you should pop out 3 more kids to justify not making an income, the ones who think your crazy and overprotective. I didn't care about any of that. I loved being home with my boy. My only child. My most precious possession.
While I know every mom sees their child in a light of perfection I have to admit through good genes, good parenting or simply by good luck Bennett was perfection. Well behaved, easily adaptable, charming to no end. He was the center of our lives. I have to admit that for those first years I couldn't imagine wanting another child. I had hit the lottery. But after a move to a new state that seemed to be
the childbirth capital of the world that "is he your only one" phrase began to eat at me. Shouldn't I want more? Shouldn't he have a sibling? We had all the "things" we needed to have more children.
We were young, my husband was successful and a great provider. Didn't we owe all that to more children? Easy as that right? Done. Decision made. Operation next baby begins here.
We had always practiced "natural family planning" so it should be easy. Nothing to stop taking or have removed. Month one passed-fail. Month two passed-fail. Month three- baby on board! I laugh now thinking of how devastated I was that it had taken So long!"
Everything was great. 6 week appointment and we saw our little nugget. Tucked away with its little heart beating away. Instant love. Innocence. Don't think to ask that he said 6 weeks when I thought I should be 7. Don't think to ask what the bpm was. Would it have foreshadowed what happened? Maybe. Could it have prevented anything? Probably not. 5 more weeks of innocence.
I scheduled my 11 week appointment at 8am. 4 days after Bennett's 3rd birthday and 4 days before my 32nd birthday. Early morning appointment scheduling is so not like me. We are not morning people. So the morning was a bit hectic. Husband cranky. Son cranky. Mommy trying not to scream at everyone. This day was important. I was worried. But I was always worried. I have a generally pessimistic nature. Usually things go on working out perfectly even through my stomach churning with dread. Not this time. Not today. The dr brought in the Doppler. No heartbeat found. Still we were told not to worry. Yeah right. In comes the portable ultrasound machine. The one that just a few weeks earlier in that very room had showed a beautiful heartbeat now showed our worst nightmare. A perfectly formed 8 week "fetus" that had stopped growing weeks ago. No signs. How did I not know?
I think the aftermath of a miscarriage is something that no one really understands unless they have been there. People don't understand the sadness, loss and disappointment that you feel even though you only knew this baby for a few shorts weeks. You never saw their face or held them. I think the worst part of the miscarriage for me was the hiding. I felt like a huge failure. Like I had done something to be ashamed of. I didn't want to give people the opportunity to hurt me. Intentionally or unintentionally it hurts just the same though. A lot of the people in my life at that time hurt me deeply. It was the darkest time of my life. I tried to be happy for Bennett though.
There are so many details I can't even write about. Bad news texts messages, phone calls made from my "safe place" which is always my closet. The worst birthday weekend ever. The recovery. Then the hiding. The mask. The fake smile that everything is okay. To those who knew and those who never knew. Months filled with hope then let down. Months revolving around no caffeine, no medications, no alcohol and lots of things I'm embarrassed to admit. All with the goal of our rainbow baby. The beautiful term for a healthy baby after a loss.
These were hard days. The phrase is he your only child stung my heart more than ever before. I felt like a failure. Not really a mommy even though I had a living breathing beautiful "only child". I remember having full on meltdowns after both times Bennett's preschool teachers congratulated me on a new baby they thought was coming supposedly by something Bennett had said. Bennett was still my shining light through this whole year. My sweet little love who gave me hope. I felt guilty feeling like he wasn't enough when he was everything.
Month 9 came. May 2013. The month before we were moving again. The month we decided to relax and start trying again when we were settled in our new city. The month I got pregnant again. The last day of preschool was the day I got those 2 pink lines. The day I hit my knees and prayed to God to let me keep this one.
