So my blog has been quiet for a few months.
Since the wedding things, life, has been hectic. We came home from our honeymoon, spent a few days with the girls, then hit the ground running with Christmas, Jamboree for the eldest Miss, my birthday, getting the eldest miss ready for high school, plus I have been working long hours as Back to School is the busiest time of the year where I work.
I'm now at that point, where I have so many things to write about I don't know where to start. Well, I didn't anyhow. And when I don't know what to write, I simply don't write. I have the wedding, the honeymoon (G rated of course), and many more topics yet to be covered.
But today I am blogging to help me heal.
Just after Christmas, we discovered we were expecting baby number 3. It was a shock for a number of reasons, including my age and weight and messed up cycle, but it was real. We had a scan that dated our little one at 6 weeks. My dates, which were accurate, said that was almost a week behind, but there is such a small margin for error, rather than question it, or worry, I chose to brush it off. I chose to ignore that little voice in my head.
To begin with I was worried, anxious, almost against this little baby, this blessing that God had given us. We couldn't afford it, Shane still doesn't have a job, we have a 21 month old little miss who still doesn't sleep through the night, and in fact, wakes most nights. We are both so tired a lot of the time, how can we manage it? Then the more vain, silly things, like how will we go on holidays with 3, its so much more expensive. We can't expect Gran & Pa to watch 2 of our babies at a time, so no more date nights, no more alone time, no more cruises, no more sleep, the vain silly list was so long.
Then, as time passed, I grew to like the idea. I had always believed our family wasn't "finished", and maybe this baby, was the final piece of the puzzle. And as mothers always do, I grew to love this baby growing inside me. I dared to dream about its life, how it would fit into our family. I began to plan our future, this little one a part of it.
Then I had a bleed, then some cramping. Nothing major. I had had bleeding in all my pregnancies, yet I couldn't shake the nagging fear that something had gone wrong. With the bleed and cramping, my symptoms, the nausea and vomiting slowly disappeared. So this week, on a visit to my GP, I asked for a referral for another scan, just to be sure everything was ok. I had managed to convince myself that I was paranoid, and this was a great chance to see my baby again. I should have just hit the 10 week mark, so I was keen to see a little person, arms, legs, a head and that precious little heart beat.
Yet, deep down, where I wasn't willing to go, I knew it wasn't ok. I had been saying for days, that I didn't "feel" pregnant anymore. When the radiologist brought up the image of our baby, I immediately knew something was wrong. I could see my baby, but it was much smaller than expected, and there was no little flash of the heartbeat. Even at 6 weeks we could clearly see that almost straight away. The radiologist went to get a second opinion, we did an internal scan, but I couldn't even look at the monitor anymore. I already knew. It was making me face that knowledge that deep down, I knew my baby was already gone.
The last couple of days have been hard. I would say its almost as hard as losing my Mum was. The pain is as raw, the complete and utter loss. That hole in my heart was ripped open again, the one I have spent years slowly healing after the loss of my mum. I have felt so much guilt over the feelings I had early on. Maybe if I had wanted our baby from the very beginning, maybe if I had given up my morning coffee, maybe if I had been stronger, then I could have somehow "saved" our baby. Protected it, as a mother should. I felt like I couldn't even do a mothers basic job. Keep my baby safe and warm and secure, provide my babies most basic of needs, but I couldn't even do that. I failed my baby.
Logically I know none of that is true. I knew, really, from that very first scan, that something wasn't quite right. I didn't "kill" my baby, I didn't "fail" my baby. I gave my baby a home for a few short weeks, then God called my baby home. Why? I don't know. I hate not knowing. But I also know it was God's choice, and I can't question that. I can ask why, but I know, for now at least, the answer to that question will go unanswered.
I can say, that this loss has shown us, today in particular, just how blessed we are. We are surrounded by amazing family, amazing friends and an amazing church family. The love and support and prayers we received at church today went a LONG way in helping us heal. Knowing our family and friends are all there, sending their love and prayers, helps us heal.
And so, for now, we just try and go forward the only way we can. Take one day at a time. One shift at work, each single day, as it comes. I know, it will take time, but eventually we will heal. We will NEVER forgot our little angel, or forgot the dreams we had for our angels future. Forever we will remember our angel.
Our Little Angel, grew wings at 8 weeks 1 day old. Be peaceful little one, in God's loving care and my Mums loving arms, until we can hold you ourselves, remember we will always love you.