The day I learned about loss

In honor of pregnancy and infant loss awareness month I am sharing the story of why this month holds a special place in my heart. I haven't ever told this entire story to anyone and only wrote it because K said it was probably a good idea.  The story was written after months of constant grief...a cycle of hope and crushing disappointment when it became clear that I wasn't going to get pregnant again any time soon. I contemplated changing some aspects of the story around but decided against it because I need to honor the sadness of the woman that wrote these words.

Without further adieu...

On my 26^th birthday I got the best present I could have ever asked for – a positive pregnancy test.  We’d only been trying since July but I had been aching for a baby of my own since we said “I do” almost four years earlier.   I was so excited that I took multiple pictures of that beautiful, positive test and texted those to K in a rush of heart pounding excitement.  No elaborate reveals from this eager lady!

Then, days later, time slowed down as I sat in the bathroom at work while my mind processed that the blood I was seeing and the pain I was feeling probably led to nothing good. 

The proper nurse that I am, I calmly took an assessment.  “T”, I addressed myself, “are you going to be okay or are you going to freak out?" But before I had a chance to answer, time sped back up and the decision was made for me.  I dropped to my knees, crying, and spent just half a second begging the Lord – not my baby, please, please, Lord…not MY baby.  But I’m a smart women and I knew it was too late. 

The begging gave way to some semblance of rational thought as I realized my next dilemma.  You see, I'd chosen a bathroom that opened directly to a patient hall and near the main nurses’ station.  Obstacles of human interaction with patients and coworkers stood in my way between this terrible place that the bathroom had become and my goal of solace that was my managers office.  I thought through all of this and wondered if I could make it without drawing attention to myself.  I dried my eyes, slapped my cheeks, and decided to just keep my head down, making a beeline for my target.  And, folks, I did it.  I walked out of the bathroom, acted normal, and made it to her office door – my heart breaking all the while.  And then that motherfucking door was locked.  No one was there.  My plan had failed and I didn't have another one.  Stay calm, my mind chanted, stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. 

My feet carried me to the nurse’s station just a few steps away.  I was speechless, my body was numb, and my baby was bleeding out of me.  I don’t know if I spoke or even if I made a noise – everything was disconnected from everything else; all systems felt like they were working separately and it was enough just to exist, but something got the attention of our nursing secretary and so came that dreaded question.  “What’s wrong,” she asked.  “I think I just had a miscarriage,” I managed to reply and then everything failed, I covered my face, the sadness burned into me, and I cried again.