We lost Baby B on November 7th, 2013. It was a crushing, devastating day. Something just wasn’t right that morning- I woke up with a bit of cramping, zero nausea, and no breast tenderness (which had all been constant up to this point). It was drastically different than all other days of pregnancy so far. I called the OB and asked to be seen. When they got me in shortly after, she did an ultrasound, and found one strong heartbeat. She didn’t immediately find a second heartbeat (but was using the portable ultrasound, which is not as good for early on ultrasounds), so said we would go check with the sonographer and the better ultrasound machine. By this point, I was already crying. I knew something was wrong. We went in to the ultrasound room, and she started looking. We saw both babies, but Baby B’s heart was no longer beating. He or she was measuring 8 weeks, 1 day, which is exactly where I was in the pregnancy, meaning our little angel had just passed. I honestly think my body knew that morning, and that’s why I had no symptoms. Nothing could have been done at that point to save the baby, but knowing to trust my instincts is something I have definitely taken away from the experience.

When the sonographer said there was no heartbeat from Baby B, the tears and sobbing just wouldn’t stop. I had called my husband at work and told him I was going in; he did a great job of trying to calm me down and reassure me that all would be fine. During the time I was in the appointment, he called constantly. He later told me he started getting really nervous when I didn’t call him back, and when he realized I had been at the appointment for over an hour. I waited to call him from the car in the parking lot…I was sobbing the whole time walking to the car, and didn’t want to tell him while I was in front of a bunch of random people around the hospital. So I called him from the car in the parking lot, still sobbing uncontrollably. That was the hardest phone call, the most emotionally devastating time of my life. He left work and met me at home. We cried and held each other for a long time, mourning our little angel baby, who we had worked so hard to bring to life.

While we had experienced 2 miscarriages over the past three years, we had never seen either of those babies on an ultrasound, never seen and heard their heart beat. There was something about this loss that just hurt so much more, and in such a deeper, more devastating way. I know some people think a miscarriage isn’t losing a child; it absolutely is, and unless you’ve experienced it, you really have no right to say it’s not a big deal. Every child conceived deserves a chance to live, especially when they are so incredibly loved, and it is truly devastating any time a child is lost.

After taking some time to process our emotions and what happened, we decided to focus all of our energy on Baby A, who was still healthy, and believe that his or her brother or sister would be watching over his/her health and wellness from above, and would keep her/him safe for the remainder of the pregnancy (and beyond). This gives us some comfort, although we will never forget our little one who was taken too soon.


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