I found out I was pregnant on July 12. I knew before I even missed my first period. It’s just one of those things – when you know that you know that you know. If I’m really honest with myself, it’s something I wanted to happen in my heart of hearts – so I was happy to see the positive test…and tested a few more times just to be sure. In spite of it all, this was very much a wanted pregnancy.

I didn’t allow myself to be concerned by the doctor not seeing what they expected to see at 5 weeks 5 days. She assured me that it could be perfectly normal, that this could be a simple matter of miscalculation. I allowed myself to rest in her assurances…and I prayed for my baby…every. single. day.

At 7 weeks 5 days on, August 9, I saw my baby’s heartbeat. It looked like a little flash of electric energy that flowed from the very top to the very bottom of the baby’s body. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt excitement like that before. I don’t know that I’ve ever fallen in love so hard, so far, so fast in all my life.

I allowed myself to be excited. I allowed myself to think about maternity pants, and nursery decorations, and welcoming a little life into our family. I daydreamed of telling my family shortly after my grandmother’s birthday when I was safely out of my first trimester, past 12 weeks.

At 9 weeks 5 days, on August 23, my baby had all but disappeared from my body. Not only could a heartbeat not be found, there was no baby in the sac. My body had efficiently and effectively identified a non-viable life and eliminated all signs of it’s existence. I processed…very slowly the fact that they were telling me that I was miscarrying…that I was no longer pregnant.

It took even longer for my body to catch up with my mind. It felt like I was waiting forever, and in the two weeks I waited for my body to recognize and complete my miscarriage, I held on to the hope that maybe they were wrong. Maybe my baby was cleverly hiding in a position that they couldn’t see. Maybe he or she would surprise us all. Maybe I would not start bleeding and they’d do another ultrasound and my baby would stop playing peek-a-boo.

I held out hope until September 4, when my partner freaked out a bit after seeing blood after we made love. Still in denial, though in my heart – I knew that I knew that I knew – I got up, went to work, and pretended that everything was fine. I made it through the day, there wasn’t any real bleeding and I was still in denial. The next day, I barely made it through. I left early, then feeling like I could handle the little discomfort I was in, got up the next morning, went to the endocrinologist. As I was sitting in her office, uttering for the first time that I was currently actively miscarrying, I thought it fitting it would come full circle. She was the first person I told I was pregnant as I was due to restart my meds and wanted to talk about a course of treatment. She was the first to congratulate me. She was also the first to offer her condolences for my loss.

On the way home I began to cramp and could feel the bleeding intensify. I’m pretty sure I was about to pass out on the train. From there the pain and bleeding got progressively worse. At one point walking helped…and at one point nothing helped.

The next day, I could tell that I was actively losing my baby. I labored. Nothing that I was told or that I read could have prepared me for the fact that I would actually have to experience labor in order to lose my child. That I would have contractions every three minutes that came in waves of 2-3 hours at a time, and at the end have nothing to show for it. That I would feel, and then see, my baby leave my body in pieces. Nothing could possibly prepare you for that. Even if someone had told me, I would have barely believed that’s what I would experience. NOTHING, could have prepared me for that, and I pray with all that I am to the God that I love and serve that I will never have to experience that ever again.

After the worse was over, I bled pretty significantly for about a week. It then tapered off until it stopped completely a week after that. I felt like it took everything. And even when we made love a week later, I still felt like everything was missing.

So here we are, having come full circle once again. One week ago, I started to bleed. And as of today, October 15, the day of remembrance for infant and pregnancy loss, I am completing my first post-pregnancy menstrual cycle. So for all intents and purposes “my ordeal is over”. Yet, I know that I know that I know, that as much as I was eager to have this time in my life come to a close, this is an experience that will never be over for me. I will never get over losing my child. I will never forget the experience of being pregnant. I will never stop loving my baby.

The Brown Babe
Pitched Entry

image source: Isabeli Fontana, 2013 Pirelli Calendar