You know, I’ve written this post two times before. In my opinion, it’s two times too many. If you’ve been following my blog, you know that conception hasn’t been hard for me and my husband, but it’s the pregnancy part that has been tough. We have our beautiful, healthy 3 year old son Logan and I don’t want this post to take away from that fact. I am so grateful for our son. He makes me so incredibly happy and incredibly furious, sometimes simultaneously (I don’t know how he does that).

Today, for the third time I was told that our baby’s heart had stopped beating. Three fucking times. I am so angry. I am so devastated. I am so broken. As I’ve mentioned before, miscarriage was never on my radar until it happened to us. Now, it’s happened to me three times. Three times I had no cramping. Three times I had no bleeding. Three times I had no sign of miscarriage. I walked into my doctor’s office this morning, admittedly a little nervous but more than anything I was excited to get another positive ultrasound under my belt. I requested an early one (6 weeks) and the ultrasound tech said the size of the baby was textbook and I saw the fluttering heart on the screen. So, today I just wanted to get another positive visit to ease my mind and I honestly thought this baby was our little Christmas miracle. The baby to complete our family. I was wrong as so many women are.

Having to reach out to those we told and text them, “lost the baby” was soul crushing. I’m sitting here looking at my Christmas tree and thinking about what the season means. This was supposed to be our season. Our miracle. Our gift. I have friends on my timeline who shared their pregnancy news at 5 weeks, 7 weeks, 9 weeks… and they go on to have healthy pregnancies. How can they be so confident? When I read that positive pregnancy test last month I was so excited, but doubt always clouds my mind. How unfair is it that some women can share this joy so early on, yet I have to hold my breath, fall to my knees and pray so hard that my baby will grow and thrive in my womb? I wish I could have the answers. WHY? Why does this continue to happen to us? This is the most haunting question I’ve ever had. I know that some women never get their baby and that I should be counting my lucky stars that I have Logan. It doesn’t take the pain away though. It doesn’t make the loss any easier. The plans you start to make. The names you think about. The nursery decor…. it’s all heartbreaking, and at this moment I’m at the mercy of my doctor who has to schedule my third D&C which I’m hoping will happen this week. I’m sitting on my couch, staring at our beautiful Christmas tree with our lifeless baby in my belly. It’s one of those times in your life where you think to yourself, “will I ever laugh again? Will I ever smile again?”

I want to crawl into my bed and lose my mind. Instead, I’m going to pick up the house, do some laundry, and pull myself together, because in a few hours I’m going to Logan’s pre-school to attend his Christmas party.

If I can ask anything of my readers – it’s for prayers. Prayers for understanding. Prayers for healing. Prayers for the baby we long for so badly. That is appreciated more than you know.

Xo,

M