One Week

I'm going to write this. I'm not sure if I'll actually publish this to share or if I will. I don't even know why I want to share this, because maybe I want people to know, maybe because I want to know that it was real and to remember or maybe just because it's consuming my thoughts at the moment. I'm having a hard time having a normal conversation and when people ask me how I am, I want to just blurt out what's happened.

On April 6th I found out I was pregnant and on April 14th I found out that I was no longer pregnant.

Easter Sunday I almost threw up after eating lunch and I knew. I just KNEW. No one had the stomach bug around us and why else would taking a bite of a pickled beet send me running to hug the toilet. We came back home, and Monday I bought 3 pregnancy tests. I took the first test while Dillon and Luke were outside playing. As the positive sign appeared, I could hear Luke laughing in the back yard and knew that things were changing. We were going to have another baby! They came inside and I told Dillon to check the bathroom counter. He knew what that meant, we hugged and kissed and I think he literally jumped up and down with happiness. 

In the next few days, I took the other two tests, just to be sure. Positive. All three. All of the early signs of pregnancy appeared, nausea, tiredness, and I prepped myself to feel this way for the next 6 weeks. I even allowed myself to buy a few pieces of maternity clothes for our beach trip in May because I would be just chubby at that point, and not sure that my summer clothes would be fitting well. Why I allowed myself to do this only a week into my pregnancy I'm not sure. With Luke, I wouldn't even allow myself to look at baby clothes or maternity clothes until I was well into the 2nd trimester.

And then, yesterday. I just KNEW again that it was over. I sat on the couch and cried. I waited until 1:30 for the doctor's office to see me and the ultrasound confirmed my fears. There was no baby there, it had already left my body. Dillon held my hand and cried with me because even though we had only known about this baby for a week, we already had such plans.

Plans about bringing her (for some reason I felt it was a girl) home in December. For having Christmas in our home, Luke wearing a big brother tee-shirt. We had already talked about cleaning out the spare bedroom, fixing a nursery, moving Luke to a big boy bed and preparing for a baby. I was excited to feel her first kicks in my tummy and to holding her on my chest after giving birth. To seeing Luke with the baby. To see her grow and thrive.  To having our family being complete. 

This is a hard thing. And like I said, I'm having a hard time when someone asks me how things are I'm  having trouble not blurting out "I just had a miscarriage" which may be a little awkward for some people. So please, just bare with me if I seem a little weepy. If I have a hard time concentrating. If I'm just not as cheery as I should be. In time, the wounds will heal, but for right now I need some time to process and I hope that by writing and sharing this it helps to heal.