The "M" word that no one talks about.....

Wow. What a week. As of Thursday morning, I was anxious to hear the heartbeat of Walker baby #2! That is right..... Brecken was set to be a big brother! We were 11 weeks pregnant and excited to be able to announce the good news in the upcoming weeks. I had been feeling good and was psyched that this seemed to be a "normal" pregnancy... You all remember that our blog, "Junior's Journey," was first created because my first pregnancy was anything BUT normal. It definitely took some convincing to even consider that this was real..... to the tune of about 14 home pregnancy tests!! At some point, I did stop thinking that the brand was bad and give into the fact that maybe they weren't ALL lying to me :)

Because I was considered high risk after my pre-term labor with Brecken, I had been to the doctor before, but Thursday was going to be the first time hearing baby's heart beat. I was nervous, anxious, jittery and excited to turn all of these baby thoughts into a true reality at the sound of the wooshing little thumps I was about to hear. Only Dr. Nadeau couldn't find the heart beat.... So we went to another room for an ultra sound. During the walk there, I thought, "Great! I get to SEE the baby instead of just hearing the heart beat! This is awesome!!" Only Dr. Nadeau couldn't get a clear picture on the ultrasound. After an internal ultrasound, I did get to see my baby. Unfortunately, baby was showing no signs of cardiac movement and I was told that he was measuring right at 6 weeks and 1 day. My response: "Oh, so I'm not as far along as we thought? I'm not the 11 weeks we were thinking?" Clearly, I wasn't comprehending what was being said to me. What took me a few long, drawn-out seconds to comprehend was that I was miscarrying. My "normal" pregnancy was scoffed at, my luck was over, my heart ripped out. If I had felt any indications that something was wrong, had I seen blood, felt cramps, something to take away the overwhelming feeling of "WHAT THE HELL DID HE JUST SAY TO ME?????"

I was an overjoyed expecting mom-to-be walking into a doctor's office to hear my baby's heart beat and was instead hearing the news that my baby didn't have a heart beat. Several hours of crying later and a swollen face to go with it, I tried to sleep only to toss and turn all night. The nice staff I work with, luckily, had no idea what was going on at school today and despite what they must have been thinking, not a single person said, "Wow, you look horrible." Bless them.

I went in for the D&C surgery at 5pm and everyone seemed to know my story before they talked to me. Eye contact was at a premium and various nurses walked into my room and said, "I'm sorry you are in here tonight." "I am so sorry you are going through this." "This is a really rough day for you, and I wish it weren't the case." Everyone was filled with sympathy and showed an overwhelming amount of compassion. This didn't make the tears go away, but it did make me feel somewhat comforted. I can also report that EVERY single female nurse and doctor that I came into contact with had PERSONALLY been through a miscarriage of their own. EVERY SINGLE ONE?? I don't know how many times I thought, why do you never hear about miscarriages when it seems like everyone has their own story about their experiences with one?? I know that it is a private thing and something that no one talks about. I know that it is painful to have to tell the loved ones that you shared your good news with early that the baby is no more. I know that tears well up at the words "miscarriage," "baby," "ultrasound," and "heartbeat." I know when I look at Brecken now, I think "sorry you won't get to meet your little brother or sister that you would have loved so much. What I do know is that people feel like they aren't able to tell their stories until they have heard the comfort of knowing that someone else has experienced their pain.

So there it is... My pain for the world to see. When April 7 rolls around, I'll be thinking about the little baby that I will never get to hold. According to the Chinese birth calendar, it was going to be my little "momma's girl" that I always wanted. If not, it would have been Brecken's little brother that would have provided us with HOURS of uninterrupted laughter and activity. Regardless of whether it was a he or she, it would have been a baby that would have been showered with love from its first day in the world. It would have been a baby that had the very BEST big brother. It could have been our little Topher or Grayson.... Madeiana or Sophia.... Payson or Reid? All name choices that will now never be decided on.

Did you know that hospitals bury miscarried babies? I had never thought about it before, but I learned tonight that our baby will be at a cemetery in Edina. Did you know that countless women go through miscarriages, many of whom are special women in your life, and you will never know? This isn't me advocating for every person to spread their agony across the world and make it public. This is me saying that a crappy thing happened and we are totally devastated. This is me explaining to my co-workers why I looked like S*$% today, why I will probably burst into tears in the upcoming weeks, why I probably won't accomplish as much "teacher stuff" as I feel like I need to going into the weekend before my kids officially come to me on Monday, why I can't seem to sleep anymore, and why there will always be a void sadness when March/ April rolls around wondering when our baby would have entered the world. Would I have gone early like I did with Brecken? Would I have actually been able to break the statistic mold and go full term?? I'll never know.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.