Maybe...

It is amazing how much your life can change in a split second…

I learned on Tuesday that the baby I lost at the end of March was a little girl…

My little girl

Everything is so clinical when you go through a loss; the once living baby is referred to as a “fetus” as it is no longer a living baby in the eyes of western medicine. You are then walked through the procedure of a D&C and told how slim your chances of getting answers (as to the why this happened) from genetic testing are. You then are left alone to heal both physically and mentally from a procedure that in the time span of half an hour took motherhood away from you.

Well as you know I spent most of this month processing my latest loss; riding the emotional rollercoaster of doubt and hope while waiting for our answers.

What I was not prepared for, what no one warned me about, was that with this genetic testing on the fetus I would be told the sex of my now lost baby. “The results of your fetus are in, it was a girl and it did not make it to term because it had Triploidy.” In one sentence I learn so much about my little girl and yet find myself furious at the medical world still referring to her as a “fetus” and “it.” I fought through my building furry and somehow managed to absorb the information I needed, but the moment I pressed the off button on the receiver… I cracked.

Maybe the loss finally hit me, maybe it was harder this time because this time I learned that I was a mother to a daughter, if only for 12 weeks and 3 days; maybe it was harder because this was the third time.. maybe it was a horrible combination of all that. All I know is, I went dark. I started questioning if this was a sign that I was not meant to be a mother, if like in Mitch’s beloved game of baseball I had just struck-out. I wept and wailed over the ever more real loss of my little girl. Tuesday, for the third time, I lost my baby.

I spent yesterday numb, trying to find a way to breathe, trying to find a light to guide me out of the darkness. I spent the day wrapped-up in a blanket surrounded by my furry babies in a zombie like state in front of the television. Mitch was wonderful as he waited patiently for me to return, holding my hand occasionally and insisting that I eat when the day grew late. Wednesday is a blur of darkness.

Maybe it was his unconditional love and support, maybe it was his giving me the space to process, maybe I finally and completely grieved my loss, maybe after a month of waiting I finally had my good-bye… all I know is, I woke today in the light, again filled with hope.

I spent today not dwelling on the strikeout, but ready for the next inning.

My mother had once said that it was going to take a strong man to win my heart; maybe all of this loss and pain, is God making me strong enough for the children I am to have…