Heartbroken is the word Ryan has used to describe the feeling of losing “Baby A” and I haven’t been able to find anything else that is more accurate. The first few days I went back and forth between overwhelming grief and a somewhat pathetic hope that maybe there had been some mistake and she would still be with us on the next scan. Over time that hope diminished and I’m settling now into a period of tiny heartbreaks that pop up unexpectedly.
It’s been 10 days since we learned of her death, likely as a result of the polycythemia, at 22 weeks gestation. To monitor her sister we had daily ultrasounds for the first 4 days and each one was a sad reminder of her struggle as they did a quick review of her status in utero. They warn me each time they get close to her so I can look away but I have to see her for myself…I felt (and still feel) she deserves that. I know eventually we’ll have a final goodbye and will long for the days I can see the evidence of her being.
“What are you having?”, was the innocent question from a well-intentioned mother at daycare that almost sent me over the edge the first time I ventured out of the house that first week. The pain of answering “a little girl” was all the conversation I could handle that day. Even worse was the later question from someone who already knew we were pregnant asking how the twins were doing. I can’t decide if it’s harder sharing the bad news with those who knew…or answering a simple question with a truth that seems like a lie.
We ARE expecting a little girl, our little “Baby B”…and today we’re hoping with everything we have that she remains healthy, with no long-term complications, and I can stay pregnant long enough to deliver our sweet daughter and welcome her into the family. Her birth will be a great day. Sadly, it will be shared with a second wave of grief as we will deliver her sister and say a final goodbye…but I’m confident that we will also find peace.