In Memory of Baby “A”

Today is the fly away date for my first baby.  Three years ago, I lost this baby to a miscarriage.  I was only five weeks along and had only known about my pregnancy for a week and a half, but just knowing I was pregnant flooded my heart will a profound love.  I never felt more calm and more peaceful in my life.  The feeling of that first pregnancy was magical.

I began bleeding the evening after my first pre-natal visit, a Thursday night.  I was told to come in on Friday morning for another examination and blood test to monitor my HCG levels.  Since this was my first blood draw, I needed to wait until Monday for another one to be used for comparision (were the numbers going up or down?).  In restrospect, I should have known that I was experiencing a miscarriage; but because the doctors would not conclusively say anything, Hubs and I held tightly to that tiny thread of hope.  It was a long, emotional weekend.  On top of it, we were hosting Easter dinner that Sunday, so we had to act as if nothing was happening during the whole event (a task at which I failed – as Hubs loves to point out I have worst poker face ever and I hate it when he’s right). The entire weekend I prayed feverently that we’d be granted a miracle and this baby would be a fighter.  But it was not to be.

The day I lost Baby A was monumental in that it was also a day that I lost the whole-hearted awe and innocence in which I viewed pregnancy.  I was thunderstruck by the loss.  I’d lost my first husband just four years prior, now was I losing a baby?  For some stupid reason, I thought that I would be immune. I’d had my major loss, now I was being dealt another one? It didn’t make sense (and it really didn’t make sense over a year later when I lost another pregnancy).  

What moved in instead was a guarded and jaded perspective.  Every commercial with a pregnant woman or couple makes me feel cold; because in idealized commercial world, every pregnancy ends in a baby, or three.  I know that it doesn’t always work that way.  I know that life can be cruel and the unexpected can happen, and happen more than once.

To this day, I still feel chill when I see or hear of a pregnancy announcement.  It doesn’t mean I think something bad will happen or expect it.  In fact,  I pray very hard that everything goes well.  I would never wish that level of pain or heartache on anyone.

It is just that tiniest things, send me back.  The memories are vivid and visceral.  The pain is still extremely real.  Like a microburst, it leaves my heart completely flattened and longing for the children I never got to hold and an innocence I want back as badly as my babies.


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