This is a difficult post. Those who have happened to stop by and to those who are totally new to this little surprise blog of mine, you may have noticed I have not updated in quite some time. Being a teacher, behind all things I do there is a reason, and there is a reason for this hiatus as well.
Where do I begin? I guess from the beginning, from the truth. If you have read since my first post, finding out I was pregnant was shocking, scary, exciting and honestly, uncertain. No, not uncertain if I wanted a baby, just more of all those feelings I described smashed together... I just call it uncertain. Well, really I call it "wow" or "whoa" but those words don't really describe feelings.
None of that matters. That moment I found out, I fell in love... hard. I became a mother in THAT moment. July 20, 2015 around 7pm... that moment I became a mom. I immediately changed my diet, what I was drinking, considered names, started online window shopping for maternity clothes, created a secret Pinterest board filled with nursery ideas, discussed it with family and close friends, and my husband would kiss my barely-there-belly. My hormones went crazy and I often felt a little psycho but we always worked through it... for Jordan.
August 28, 2015 around 4:30pm. It is my 9w6d ultrasound. I am here to find out the real due date for our baby, I am here to see how he or she has grown, I am here for good news.
I knew the second I saw. I knew the ultrasound tech new the second she saw. Darius knew the moment he saw. Our bean no longer looked like a baby. You could just tell. It was different... you could tell it had stopped forming and looked more just like a blob. I was hopeful. I remember thinking, "Hell, I don't know what the baby should look like at this point! Come on!" She zoomed in closer on it, mentioning how if there's a heartbeat the baby should light up red in certain areas... nothing. I knew she knew and was just trying really hard.
"I don't see a heartbeat." 5 words. 5 words is all it took to have my heart sink. My stomach went into knots. My throat closed up and the tears started forming as the words repeated in my head. I couldn't look at Darius. I just couldn't. The ultrasound tech said she wanted to go find my doctor to confirm details. I knew she was giving us time.
I remember the crying didn't start for a minute. Darius mumbled, "baby..." and I just sobbed. We were both torn apart inside. We hugged, cried... it was AWFUL. IT WAS GOD AWFUL. I kept looking at that blank ultrasound screen. I kept rubbing my belly as if maybe I did, maybe just maybe that heartbeat would start. I read it happens before... after the baby is born... just some time with mommy and it can happen. But it can't and it wouldn't. Our doctor informed us that our baby had passed around 7w6d. I couldn't help but think- I had been walking around, happy, talking about my baby to people, people touching my belly, people being excited... for weeks not a clue of what had happened. We were given 3 options that evening. 1- let my body take control naturally (not a chance in hell, I thought) 2- take a pill which would force it to happen at home between 12-24 hours (not a chance in hell, I thought) 3- be put under and have a D&C and not feel a thing (not a chance in hell, I thought). It wasn't going to happen because I was in denial. The grief stages are so incredibly true. I hit denial IMMEDIATELY. To my doctor I mumbled, "The D&C." It was scheduled for Tuesday.
That evening was like an outer body experience. We went to Starbucks. I got a coffee. Because now I could. I wasn't happy about it... I don't even think I thought about it. We got Five Guys burgers and went home. I was craving burgers when I was pregnant. So there I was, with my coffee for non-pregnant people and my burger for craving-pregnant-people, stuck in between these two worlds, being pulled in both directions. The realistic me knew I was no longer pregnant. The denial me knew, there's still a baby in there- you're not risking it! The next 4 days went by so slowly as I awaited my procedure. Walking around with my poor baby inside me, my helpless little bean that I couldn't save, it was so painful.
Guilt. It hit hard. There HAD to have been something I could have done. I am the MOM. I should be able to save my baby! How did I not know it was sick? Why couldn't I do anything? Why did I have to take a sip of my friends coffee that ONE time? Was my sushi not fried when I thought it was? Was this because the one time I wished I could eat a turkey sub again? Am I a selfish horrible mom for wanting a turkey sub?! So many thoughts... so much guilt.
Darius and I prayed every single day for that baby. We still do. It's the most intimate I have ever felt with him. The night before the surgery, I asked the question I had been dreading to ask in fear that I may sound crazy. "Do we want to name the baby?" Of course, he answered yes, saying he had been feeling the same way. We picked Jordan - it's gender neutral. It means "River of Judgement." It just felt right. It felt perfect. Turns out, my name was supposed to be Jordan when I was born. Coincidence? I think, God.
The procedure went well, the doctors were amazing and I felt confident that things would actually be okay. I took the rest of the week off work - minus a half day on Friday when I tried to push myself too hard to go back. People starring, kids asking, hugs coming... I couldn't handle it. My body was in pain and so was my heart. I felt like I was having a panic attack being there. My chest was tight and I felt nauseous. I had to get out.
Darius and I have been doing better with this. This first year of marriage has been extremely challenging just within the first two months. I am blessed to have him as my partner to walk through this journey with. We talk about Jordan daily and we pray. We are bonded more than anyone could ever know.
Our hearts ache daily. I don't have a baby to raise, to hug and kiss, to pinch it's chubby thighs, to watch grow up. I have a baby that I will love for the rest of my life. Jordan will always be our first baby. We love that bean more than anyone could know. Our lives will never be the same. Our thoughts will always journey back every August 28th. I am so thankful for what Jordan has already given us; the feeling of unconditional love. I had always wondered what a mother's love feels like, and I am beyond blessed to have experienced that feeling even for the short four weeks that Jordan was physically in our lives.
Our faith in God and trust in this journey is guiding us through. We appreciate all the love, support, sweet thoughts and gestures as our hearts and minds heal.
