Heart broken

Would he have had blue eyes? Would he have had Cems dramatics and flair. Would she have shared Apple’s infectious giggle and smile?

I’m trying to keep busy today. I want to fall into a fetal position and break down. I placed a heavy duty pad between my legs, shoved my heart back into my chest and went grocery shopping with the kids simply to get out of the house. We came home and made playdoh. Let’s just say a whole bag of flour was used and my kitchen floors are now literally scrubbed clean. But they had fun and their smiles, their giggles, their mess, was solace to this mommy’s sad heart.

You know we’re fertility challenged and a positive pregnancy test, those sticks you pee on, are foreign to me and were completely useless with our IVF experiences. February and March passed without needing to break out feminine pads and my back didn’t hurt days before my aunt flo arrived I went “hmm, what can this be now?” “Where the Hell is Aunt Flo?”

I was cautiously excited. A positive stick pee test later and I giddily and rather nervously told my hubby over the phone. I took another test over the weekend and this one had a faint line but was negative. Maybe a faint sign of a vapor line for positive. Hmm, what the hell? You’d think they’d have come up with something that sings you a song and says “You’re fing pregnant for real” instead of sitting on the toilet and holding it up to the light and wondering “wait is that a line or my eyes wanting a line to show?”

This morning I woke up in pain and Aunt Flo showed up. 1^st time since January. Early January. After almost a bag full of pads this morning, my OB was called. She feels its most likely an early miscarriage, come in later for blood work and ultrasound to see if I need anything done to “clear up everything.” To clear up everything—all I see in my head are baby feet and toes.

Baby #4 may not have been planned, may not have been meant to be, but the mere possibility was enough to have me love him/her. The mere possibility was enough for me to hold my paunchy flaccid tummy and wonder whether it looked like a chicken embryo or if it resembled a tadpole. Last night I slept cuddling with my husband, his hand lying comfortingly, protectively over our pseudo baby tummy incubator. And I was happily thanking God for blessing us with a miracle baby.

I am devastated. Someone-- I don’t know who—God? Life? Whatever, anything, something, has kicked you in the stomach and pulled out your heart and stomped on it and shredded it too and then salted it for good measure. I am heartbroken.