august 31 and we have a good ultrasound. baby is about 7w4d, almost a week behind where i thought i was, but what am i to know. heartbeat – check. everything looks good.
i take the picture home and put it on the fridge.
september 4 and it is shilah’s first day of preschool.
a few things happened the night before that led me to call the doctor.
nothing monumental. nothing yahoo answers didn’t say was normal. (why do i trust yahoo answers? ever?). but i called.
the doctor said to come in to the office.
shilah does a stellar drop off at preschool. no crying and straight to the toy bin of babies. uncharacteristic of her and a gift from God since i am preoccupied. panicky.
fastforward 15 minutes and i am in the doctors office.
it a nice office. not luxurious-nice but friendly-nice. there are fresh cookies at the door and cucumber water at the reception desk.
no one asks my name when i come in. they know who i am because of why i am there.
five more minutes.
i saw it on the screen. it looked similar to how it did four days ago at that ultrasound.
that ultrasound where it measured a week small, but had a strong heartbeat, so no one challenged the calendar math
it looked similar to how it did four days ago at that ultrasound. but cloudy. the screen was darker. the parts less defined.
the sonographer moved quickly, taking measurements.
i don’t want to keep you waiting. there’s not a heartbeat.
i hold my breath and close my eyes but tears come out anyway.
i have to take a few more measurements. ill be quick, i just wanted you to know.
i sit in a room and wait. rationalize. silent tears.
the doctor comes in and we talk options. lots of them. but don’t make a decision today. wait and think.
i call jon.
i lost the baby.
that’s what i want to say.
but i can’t make the words come out.
it’s not lost.
i saw it.
the baby died.
that’s what i say. it doesn’t sound as nice, but it’s true.
i know why we told everyone. i say. i know we told everyone because no one talks about this stuff and if something happened – i would want our friends to know. i would want people to watch me go through it in a way that’s glorifying to God. and i still think that. but this. will. be. hard.
mommy, you sad? i get you a kleenex.