Last night after I posted I realized that I missed Anastasia’s due date on the 20th. I cried. She could have been a year old if she had lived. My husband doesn’t even remember the dates. I hope it doesn’t mean that I’m forgetting her. Not that I ever knew her. I don’t even know if she was really a girl.
Maybe it just means I’m healing. That I can be busy enough travelling Ireland with my in-laws that I don’t have to take time out to grieve more.
I can take time out to think about her now.
I went to the doctor as soon as I found out I was pregnant since the doctor considered the pregnancy high risk with my 0 for 2 batting average. She didn’t do a pregnancy test or anything. She just told me my due date and we talked about how this was going to be the lucky time so we scheduled an ultrasound for 8 weeks.
We told my in-laws when we were out for breakfast that I was pregnant again and we felt really hopeful. I don’t remember telling my parents, it must have been over the phone. Thanksgiving would have been 7 weeks, so we planned to tell the family gatherings then. We told my family at my mom’s birthday party the night before Thanksgiving. Later that night the bleeding started.
I spent Thanksgiving day bawling at a relative’s house and having to explain to everyone that I had been pregnant, but I wasn’t anymore.
I didn’t have to tell my mother-in-law though. It was actually a beautiful moment between us that I treasure. I was sitting in the living room crying when she walked in. She looked at me and I looked at her and I nodded and she started crying. She had lost all her grandbabies. We hugged for a long time.
The next day, instead of shopping, we spent in the ER getting confirmation that Stacia was dead. I don’t know why I felt like I needed that. I wasn’t pregnant long enough to need a D&C. It was awful. I told triage I was having a miscarriage and then we waited five hours. I took a pregnancy test and it was negative. The doctor didn’t believe me. I was so confused. They did an HCG test and it came back at 5. There was hardly any proof that she ever existed. The only thing I could do was go home and wait for the bleeding to stop. It eventually did and the crying too. But the pain is still there. Not every day anymore, just most days.