Three Wasn’t Meant to be

19 weeks. Yesterday, at 19 weeks and 4 days, I went to the doctor.  I had some spotting and light cramping, which was something that hadn’t happened since 14 weeks.  I wasn’t worried.  I had worked out that morning.  The midwife told me to come in just in case. 

The nurse wasn’t worried. This was normal.  I laid back for her to check the heartbeat.  I could tell that it was only mine she was finding. She called in another nurse and the same thing.  100 bpm is not normal for a baby.  The midwife came in and checked me.  Nothing to be worried about with the spotting.  But that heartbeat….

I went in for a ultrasound and I already knew.  No heartbeat from the baby.  He was measuring 15 weeks and should have been 19.  Somewhere between my last appointment and this one, his heart quit beating.

At a certain point in a pregnancy, you worry a little less.  The morning sickness subsides (for most people).  You get back your energy.  You just feel better at least until you get super huge and uncomfortable in your 3rd trimester.  You don’t expect this kind of news.  That’s the only thing I kept thinking.  This doesn’t happen at 19 weeks.

But it does.  It’s just rare.  I was a statistic for being a geriatric mom and now I become another one for losing a baby in the second trimester.  

Eventually, the doctor Skyped in.  He said with the genetic testing being normal, my age would not have been a factor.  Sometimes you just don’t know.  We probably will never know.

I started this blog as a fun way to celebrate older moms.  I never imagined I would be writing something like this. But there maybe someone out there is going through the same thing as me.  So I feel like I need to tell my story.

Today, I will go in for a D&E.  I tried to read on it but didn’t get very far.  I know what the result will be.  

I was supposed to go to NOLA for a business/girls trip tomorrow.  The doctor had no problem with it.  My husband, the superhero, has encouraged me to do what feels best.  My friends have said I should go if I feel up to it. (I have yet to mention how incredible my “people” are.)

But I am not sure if I should stay for my daughter.  It’s hard for a 6.5 year old to wrap her sweet mind around the fact that her little brother doesn’t have a heartbeat.  She loved and hugged on me all night.  I could not be more grateful for her.  Somehow, I must be doing something right for her to be as amazing as she is.

I am really not sure how to end this post.  Nothing seems right.  But the reality is that life still goes on. I need to tell a few more people before I put this out to the rest of the world.  I need to decide on my trip so I can cancel or move my flight.  And I need to shower before we go to the hospital.

Before all that, I am going to go cry my eyes out and pray that today goes by in a blur.