Last Wednesday I started bleeding. There was a lot of blood. My first reaction was shock. It was most definitely unexpected. Second, I was scared. You never want to see blood when you’re pregnant. But it didn’t take long for me to feel at peace. I knew that it could mean anything and there wasn’t a reason to worry yet.
Then Friday came. Heartbroken. Devastated. Defeated.
This hurts like hell. It’s not fair. We’ve tried so hard.
I’ll be glad when my injection sites stop hurting, itching, and reminding me of how hard we worked to just lose everything. But I’d start them again in a second to be pregnant again.
Yesterday should have been our first ultrasound. But not this time. Instead I started my period. Yet another reminder of what isn’t growing in my body anymore.
June 25th would have been our due date. That’s my niece and nephew’s birthday. I can’t make this stuff up. It’s one thing after another poking fun at us like it’s some huge joke.
I feel like such an idiot for investing so much time and money only to end up here. I’m grateful for the 19 days I was pregnant. I assume the 19th day is when I miscarried. I passed two large clots, that in my mind, were my babies. On the 21st day our fears were confirmed.
This situation leaves me with so many questions? Why did this happen? What went wrong? Could we have done anything differently to change the outcome? Will we ever hold a baby of our very own in our arms?
Questions I’ll never have the answers to.
Our babies came into this world. Just not the way we wanted them to.