And Just Like That...

Sweet little Dash-3's heart stopped beating.

I don't know why, or exactly when.  We were just starting to pick it up consistently on the doppler last week...maybe Monday or Tuesday we heard it and it was great. Super strong.

We've not been able to hear it for the past couple of days, but just felt like it must be moving or it was still too early.

Surely, it was fine.

I'm good at being pregnant, right?

Guess we can strike that one from my list.

We went for our 1st trimester screening this morning at Dr. Sweeney's.  I knew as soon as the sonographer said, "This baby is all curled up like a little ball," that something was not right.

This baby was a wiggler.  A mover and a shaker.  It was NOT a curl-up-like-a-little-ball baby.

She kept trying to get it to move, but she knew.  Then she turned the heartbeat thing on and off very quickly.

No blood flow.  No movement.  No heartbeat.

Another dead baby...this one still inside of me.

Curled up.  Like a little ball.

I don't know that I'll be able to get that picture out of my mind.  It breaks my heart.  My baby curling up to let its heart beat for the last time...and I am powerless to save it.

I want to ask, "Why?" but there's no answer good enough, so I won't even bother, and really, would appreciate it if I wasn't offered any explanations.  As I've said before, knowing God has a plan and knowing WHAT the plan is are two different things.  I don't think anyone on this earth is qualified to tell me the latter, so I'll just ask that everyone refrain from telling me the former.

Someone asked me if I was just blindsided by this.

No.  Sadly, I'm not.  I've come to expect that the worst will happen, and when it doesn't, I am overjoyed and thrilled beyond thrilled.  I told John last week, "Well, at least if we hear bad news next week, it'll be at Dr. Sweeney's office, thank God."

Absolutely, thank God.  I cannot imagine finding this out anywhere else.

I don't need anyone telling me about my pessimism or any of that jazz.  It's not pessimism.  It's wisdom.  A good friend shared with me that wisdom is built on and from life experiences.  Revelation of how to live and deal with life experiences comes from God.  My wisdom is that my babies can (and do) die.

The revelation is that I survive.

When people say, "I can't imagine," it's really because they truly CAN'T imagine...it seems impossible to survive the death of a baby, much less babies.

It sort of feels impossible.

But I know it's not.  I am doing it this very second.  We were going to visit Matthew today after we had a great ultrasound appointment.

Instead, we'll visit tomorrow after a D&C.

And I'll survive.

More, I'm still grateful.  I've said that even if I knew what would happen with Matthew, I'd do every.single.thing again, and didn't regret a second and I mean that.

I also mean it with this little lost life.  I am so grateful that I have been able to carry this baby for 12 weeks.  I am so grateful that I have been able to experience the sheer miracle that is conception and the viewing of a precious little heartbeat.  I was filled with joy watching it wiggle and move all over the screen two weeks ago, and I will forever be thankful that God chose me, yet again, to carry a precious little soul...even if just for a little while.

I have been reflecting on three IVF cycles...all three successful...three pregnancies...ONE carseat in the back seat.

One car seat more than I ever, ever, ever dreamed I would have.  How can I not be grateful beyond words for that precious car seat?  For three tests that have been POSITIVE?  For three opportunities to share our jubilation and joy with everyone we know?

For an infertile woman, that's more than I could ever have imagined.

And I am grateful.

My heart is full of sorrow, though.  I wanted this little one so much.  I was so excited about a first holiday season.  I even bought him or her a "My First Christmas" outfit a few weeks ago.

Like I said, no one needs to talk to me about pessimism.  I think buying a Christmas outfit for a baby who is only 7 weeks in utero is pretty positive.  I bought an awesome double stroller too.  Positive AND expensive.

Realistic though.  I sort of felt like the odds of something catastrophic happening after Matthew were sooooo much smaller, and that sort of made me feel a hair more secure about something happening to Luke.

But this was a different ball game.  Not back to back tragedy.

Just more tragedy to already wounded hearts.

Yet I know that unbearable grief and extravagant joy coexist.  That sweet boy of mine has been such a help to my heart today.  I was so blessed by the support at Dr. Sweeney's office.  I was able to immediately pick up the phone and call my wonderful Dr. Shonekan and she didn't hesitate a second to bring me in and take care of me.

We are surrounded by support and by God's providence and though my heart is just broken right now, I am able to see it in very tangible ways.

To be honest, I'm not sure what to expect with a D&C, and I'd rather not have one, but do not want to risk anything happening on its own while I am alone with Luke.  I have a good friend who waited to miscarry naturally, and her life was endangered because she'd lost so much blood.  While my personal preference would be to allow my body to naturally miscarry...I just cannot take chances with Luke.  This grieves my heart, but I feel like it's the best decision to be made in a situation with no good outcomes.

Thank you friends for all your thoughts and prayers.  Please know how much I truly believe they sustain us.  Know that we are doing ok, though obviously heartbroken, and continue to lift us—especially John.  Dads, and especially tough Marine dads, don't ever seem to get the support that we women do.  I guess some of it is simply the difference between how men and women function and relate, but I promise you that my husband's Daddy's Heart is broken and I wish I could do something about it.  So please, just pray for us, as you have already told us you are.  We cannot thank you enough.