I'm a private person, and tend not to share deeply personal things on this blog. But, this time, it seems appropriate for a few reasons. Maybe someone else will be able to relate to my experience. And, it's just therapeutic for me to write right now.
I'll just start at the beginning.
About three weeks ago, I found out some very shocking news.
I was pregnant. Unexpectedly. I had given away all of my maternity clothes and all of my baby clothes. I was very much done. Done. Done. Done.
And, so to find out I was pregnant was a huge surprise.
I spent the next week feeling completely panicked. How in the world was I going to take care of another baby? I already had a baby! And, how in the world was I going to take care of 4 kids?! Three kids, I have learned to handle, but 4 seemed to stretch me beyond my human limits.
A few weeks passed, though, and I was making space for the baby. I made space in my heart, and in our family. Little Z was going to be a big brother. He was supposed to just be a little brother, but now he was going to be a big brother! Wow, a big brother. I was excited for him to have a little buddy--someone on his level that he could go through life with--a friend. I was making plans for how we were going to fit another little person into our home. I bought a few maternity clothes, and was making plans for things we would need to acquire--like another double stroller since ours was long, long gone.
And, I was excited about the little life growing inside of me. I was looking forward to meeting him, and taking photos of him (of course!), and getting to know him. I was beginning to embrace my reality.
And, then, something very sad happened. We lost the baby. Last week at 9 weeks and 3 days old (in the womb), our little baby died. I have never lost a baby before. And this loss is rather intangible. Because, it feels like losing something you never exactly had. I'm not sure what you believe about the soul, but I believe that this little baby had a soul, and that the little soul is now in heaven.
To me, the loss feels very deep and very sad. I won't get to touch those little fingers and toes. I won't get to see his little face or get to know his little personality. I know I am very blessed to have three beautiful children, but this loss is about this baby. I'm learning I can be grateful and sad all at the same time.
My doctor gave us some great advice. He encouraged us to do something as a family to commemorate the baby. We gave him a name. Since I don't really share out kids' names on this blog, I just tell you his name is baby O. I found a little wooden cross that we could remember him by. On Sunday morning, we had a little ceremony where we each said a few words, and placed the cross in our backyard.
I've taken the week "off." I've got a great group of friends here who are taking good
care of me bringing our family meals each night so that I don't have to cook. Other instructors are teaching my Jazzercise classes for me. It's giving me space. The space I need to just be. To have time to grieve. And time to just sit.
I'm sure the sadness will eventually lessen, and I'll eventually find my new normal--whatever that may be. But, for now, I'm sitting down, and just letting my heart wait.