Please stop asking me why.
I know, it is easier for those left behind to cling to why. Everyone wants a reason for tragic events.
You can trust us that no one wants an answer more than we do and we don’t have one so please stop asking why. Because “why” implies there was something we could have done. If we knew why then we can say, “oh next time I won’t eat green beans” or some other silly thing we can cling to with false hope. But ultimately there is no answer and there is no reason why. Something was wrong with the fetus. The body aborted it. End of story. End of our hopes and dreams for the third time. If you think that’s hard to understand, imagine being us. Or any couple that lost a baby too soon.
It is a statistical game and one that we are very bad at (or good, depending on how you look at the world). 1 in 6 couples have unexplained infertility. 20% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage. There was a 5% chance we would miscarry after the BFP following our IVF cycle. We had a 5% chance of miscarriage after seeing the heartbeat at 7 weeks.
Five F**king percent. We are very good at being that minority.
I wish there was a 5% chance of winning the lottery.
6 days since they told us there wasn’t a heartbeat.
3 days since they removed our baby from my body.
I haven’t worn makeup in 6 days. Normally that still means mascara, powder and blush. Not anymore. It’s just something else to run down my face. I can’t stop crying. Every breath hurts. I want to stop breathing and for a moment fade into darkness where it doesn’t hurt anymore.
This line from There was Supposed to be a Baby really spoke to me:
This tiny life had been a part of my own for such a short time, yet I knew I would never be the same again. His life had changed mine, and most of the world never knew he had been there.
Well, I haven’t blogged in a while because I was pregnant and it didn’t feel right.
I am sure you caught the key word in that sentence. Was.
10 week ultrasound today before a chromosomal blood test and there was no heartbeat. Baby stopped at eight and a half weeks.
She asked me if I wanted to see the screen. I said no. I couldn’t. Not again. Not another ghostly white image burned into my brain for the third time.
We were such fools. Thinking that after there was a heartbeat at 7 weeks that we would be ok. We even had a Doppler at home and were convinced we could faintly hear the heartbeat.