Becoming An Expert On Grieving

We've just lost another baby.

Last week, I was entering second trimester.
Tonight, I had two beers.
I had two beers because I am no longer carrying the baby.
Tonight, the baby rests peacefully in a pot near my back door.

After the miscarriage last November, we waited to try again. I was still nursing my youngest and taking birth control, but we got pregnant anyway. I won't lie. I was beside myself with joy. And worry. After three successful pregnancies I'd have never thought we would miscarry. Last November really gave us a reality check. Nothing is certain.

After several blood tests to confirm, we were definitely pregnant. I was around two weeks when we found out. Thinking this would be our last child, I was so grateful for finding out so soon. That way I could soak up every last detail of my final pregnancy. We had our first ultrasound at seven weeks. The heartbeat was perfect. Everything looked exactly as it should. I just knew, if we saw the heartbeat, we were definitely having this baby. Home birth plans were in the works. I even started a quilt.

I started spotting at 12 weeks. This has happened during all of my pregnancies so we tried not to worry. I called my midwife. She agreed. Might be nothing. If it would make me feel better, why not come in and listen to the heartbeat on Friday.
I waited.
I worried.
She ended up attending a birth that Friday.
My spotting turned into passing tissue. She sent me to have an ultrasound done without her.
The ultrasound confirmed our fears.
The baby had no heartbeat.

I wanted to deliver this baby at home. Naturally and unassisted. It didn't happen. A week passed with no change in my cervix but I continued to lose blood. I needed a D&C. My doctor made sure the baby would be returned to us so we could bury him/her as we saw fit.
We will never know the gender. The doctor was able to remove the baby, and the sac, all completely intact. We left "baby" in the sac, as it was his/her only home for the entirety of it's (much too short) life.

 Now, blooming purple shamrocks grow above where our baby lay.

The Baby That Wasn't

We discovered I was pregnant on October first. We were shocked and thrilled.
We want a fourth and why not now?
Throughout the pregnancy, something felt "off". We had many ultrasounds since I am still breastfeeding our 14 month old and haven't had a cycle to be able to date the pregnancy. The early ultrasounds showed little development beyond a yolk.  At my nine week appointment we knew it was non viable. It was a blighted ovum.
Left with the decision to have a D&C or finish out the pregnancy naturally, we chose to take our grief home and let my body take care of itself.  Development stopped at seven weeks so I should have little trouble completing the miscarriage unassisted. We were told it could take several weeks for my body to realize this pregnancy is over. We began to worry about time. What if we began the emotional healing process and then had to start over, weeks later, when my body caught up?  Thankfully, that was not the case. My final ultrasound was Thursday and I began miscarrying Friday afternoon. We did not know what to expect, but we guessed it would be somewhat similar to labor, just on a smaller scale. Friday was not physically difficult, just emotionally.
We began Saturday morning a little afraid of what was to come. The kids seemed anxious and tired of being cooped up in the house so we decided we would try walking around the park to bring on labor. I made red raspberry leaf tea to go and we spent a lovely morning walking and reflecting and loving each other. Soaking in the present moment. We came home and put the baby down for a nap and I started on some sewing projects to take my mind off things. All the while, noticing contractions. I finally had to get in the shower where I realized it was time. I stayed in the shower for as long as I could and soon after experienced intense labor pains until all was passed.
Now, I feel empty.
These past two months have been full of uncertainty and worry. Now we feel we can finally grieve and begin healing.