Dear Raine,
I don't know how to start this letter. We did not have that much time together. I was so excited when I found I was pregnant with you. I couldn't believe it. We had been trying to so long and then suddenly you were there. We were ecstatic, we had trouble going back to sleep. Finally, after fifteen months, I was pregnant with my rainbow baby.
I had told myself before I got pregnant that when I was pregnant I was going to focus on being grateful and sharing my love with my baby for as much time as I can. I think I did that. I hope you felt the love your dad and I had for you.
We called you Baby R 2.0 since Genevieve was originally called Baby R. I would play positive pregnancy hypnosis audio to help me relax and then I would think positive thoughts or talk to you and hoped you get my messages. You were very loved and very wanted.
I was having trouble figuring out if I had loss a baby or if there was a baby to begin with, and I will probably struggle with that in the future. But one thing I know was real was the love I felt for you and the love I feel for you still.
As I sit here and type this I am still in disbelief that I have been pregnant two times and have zero live babies to show for it. I can't believe this happened again. This time is different, I feel like I barely got to know you and then you were taken away. It's like I know I am missing something, but I don't know what it is.
Before this I had set plans, my rainbow baby's middle name is going to have Eve in it somewhere to honor their big sister. I wanted the rainbows to know about their big sister, Genevieve Pearl. I would want them to know you too, but I have nothing to show for you except a picture of a couple of sticks I peed on. You were not in any sonogram photos so I'm not sure what to tell future children. I guess I will have to figure it out when it is time.
I have learned a lot from this experience. For one, I want to put the nursery together and make it gender neutral. Before I wanted to do themes, and I still love the idea of themes, but for now I want to make gender neutral and then do a theme when your siblings is a toddler. I want to try to relax as much as possible and not put pressure on myself to get pregnant again. That one is easier said then done. If I didn't think it was even possible, I love your daddy even more. I want to go back to working out and living my life and I am so lucky to get pregnant again, then I will try to have the same philosophy that I had with you: Love with everything and be grateful for our time together.
I have may have known about you for a week, but you were a wise little embryo.
Love,
Mommy
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Confused
I am feeling so confused about this miscarriage. The doctor told me she only saw the gestational sac and there wasn't a yolk or a fetal pole. Was there even a baby? Did I lose a baby? With Genevieve, it was so obvious she was a baby. I held her. I kissed her. I have pictures of her. With this, I have a few sticks I peed on.
If there was never a heartbeat and a baby wasn't seen, was the baby alive? Was there a soul? Did I lose a baby? Did I just name a gestational sac?
I miss being pregnant. I miss the possibility of bring a baby home. I miss the happiness and excitement I felt when I was pregnant. I miss looking at onsies that I could possibly put a baby in and discuss names with the husband. I miss those things, but did I lose a baby? Was there a baby?
If there was a baby there, I probably flushed her down the toilet. So which is better? There being a baby there or not?
I have these thoughts and questions floating in my head and colliding together. The confusion is frustrating me because it's not precise or neat. Not that baby loss ever is, but with Genevieve I knew what I was missing. I knew what I was grieving, with this, I'm left confused.
Angel Sister
Dear Genevieve,
It finally happened for me. The day before Mother's Day, I saw the second pink line. I stared at the stick in disbelief that there was actually a second line there. I called for your dad to make sure I wasn't just seeing things. He saw it too. Fifteen months. That is how long it took to see a second line. Fifteen months. We couldn't believe it.
That weekend we were staying at a timeshare resort. We didn't know it before we book the hotel, but there was a Lake Eve on the property. "Aww," we thought. We knew you were going to be with us for that Mother's Day weekend. It was bittersweet. We were with you, even if we couldn't see you. Then to make our weekend even better, we saw that second pink line. How could we be so lucky?
I woke up on Mother's Day at 2 am in the morning and immediately took more pregnancy tests for confirmation. I got it. Both pregnancy tests were positive. I ran to your daddy and woke him up. We immediately fell in love with your sibling and we felt so blessed for this gift you gave us. We were sure it came from you. It made Mother's Day bearable since I was on cloud 9 the entire day.
I was on cloud 9 the entire week. I was so happy to be pregnant. I was scare too, but I was so overjoyed to have a second little one, your sibling. Your dad and I were convince she was a girl, even though it was way too early to find out. We just knew it was a girl.
Friday, your daddy and I went to see the high risk doctor. We were hoping to see a little alien-like creature in my tummy. I had prepared myself the entire week to not see the heartbeat. I knew it was too early and I didn't want to scare myself. I told the doctor I would be 5 weeks, but when she did the ultrasound, she only saw the gestational sac and no yolk or fetal pole. She said it was consistent with being pregnant for 4 weeks. She sent me out to do blood work. I was nervous, but your dad was not.
Saturday we went to visit with your grandma and when we came back that evening, I saw blood. It was not a lot, just a few drops, but it was there. I did not bleed with you so I was nervous. I made an appointment with an urgent care to be sure there wasn't an infection. He sent us to the emergency room.
I had several tests run, and it appeared my HCG hormone was low, but we had nothing to compare it to since my other blood work did not come back. It was looking very grim. I tried to hold out hope, but I figured there was no point. My paperwork said it all "threatened abortion." When I read those words, I just knew I was going to have another angel.
Sunday morning around 2, I woke up to blood and pain. I was huddled over in pain and knew that I was miscarrying. Thank goodness your father insisted I go to the hospital. I was shaking in pain the short ride there and when I arrived I told the man what was happening.
I am taken in right away. The nurse sits at the desk and I sit on the chair. Although she heard everything I told the man in the window, she asked me what happened. I said it again "I'm having a miscarriage". I told her about the ER visit earlier. I told her how I woke up with blood and pain and that I took ibuprofen to help with the pain. She looks at me and asks "You're pregnant?" I said I was and she replies with "you're not supposed to take ibuprofen if you are pregnant."
Eve Believe, I have seen so much ugly in this world. And in that moment, I could have turned and slapped her. I could have turned to her and said, "Thanks a lot you insensitive cow." I could have done so many things. But I didn't. I said again I was miscarrying. She gets up and slowly walks down the hall to bring us to our room. She does not speak to any of the nurses and leaves us there. My hands start to go numb. I can't believe this is happening to me again. I call for a nurse and say I can't feel my hands.
A nurse comes to the room and takes my blood pressure. I told her what happened. I told her about the insensitive cow. I told her about you. I told her I can't believe I am losing another baby.
The doctor comes in and we talk. They finally give me pain medicine to help with the pain. The doctor does a pelvic exam and sees that I am having a miscarriage and I have tissue causing the pain. He removes it and I immediately feel relief. I am so grateful for that doctor. He was so compassionate and understanding.
When we were alone, your daddy and I cried for our baby. We decided to call her Raine since she was supposed to be our rainbow and it could be unisex. Even though we thought she was a girl, we still wanted a unisex name in case. You have a sibling. You are a big sister. You get to be with her and I don't. Please take care of her.
I imagine you both running through a field holding hands and giggling. I imagine you playing with each other and giving kisses to Grandma Muggy. I imagine you both happy. Your daddy and I love you both, forever and always.
Love,
Mommy
It finally happened for me. The day before Mother's Day, I saw the second pink line. I stared at the stick in disbelief that there was actually a second line there. I called for your dad to make sure I wasn't just seeing things. He saw it too. Fifteen months. That is how long it took to see a second line. Fifteen months. We couldn't believe it.
That weekend we were staying at a timeshare resort. We didn't know it before we book the hotel, but there was a Lake Eve on the property. "Aww," we thought. We knew you were going to be with us for that Mother's Day weekend. It was bittersweet. We were with you, even if we couldn't see you. Then to make our weekend even better, we saw that second pink line. How could we be so lucky?
I woke up on Mother's Day at 2 am in the morning and immediately took more pregnancy tests for confirmation. I got it. Both pregnancy tests were positive. I ran to your daddy and woke him up. We immediately fell in love with your sibling and we felt so blessed for this gift you gave us. We were sure it came from you. It made Mother's Day bearable since I was on cloud 9 the entire day.
I was on cloud 9 the entire week. I was so happy to be pregnant. I was scare too, but I was so overjoyed to have a second little one, your sibling. Your dad and I were convince she was a girl, even though it was way too early to find out. We just knew it was a girl.
Friday, your daddy and I went to see the high risk doctor. We were hoping to see a little alien-like creature in my tummy. I had prepared myself the entire week to not see the heartbeat. I knew it was too early and I didn't want to scare myself. I told the doctor I would be 5 weeks, but when she did the ultrasound, she only saw the gestational sac and no yolk or fetal pole. She said it was consistent with being pregnant for 4 weeks. She sent me out to do blood work. I was nervous, but your dad was not.
Saturday we went to visit with your grandma and when we came back that evening, I saw blood. It was not a lot, just a few drops, but it was there. I did not bleed with you so I was nervous. I made an appointment with an urgent care to be sure there wasn't an infection. He sent us to the emergency room.
I had several tests run, and it appeared my HCG hormone was low, but we had nothing to compare it to since my other blood work did not come back. It was looking very grim. I tried to hold out hope, but I figured there was no point. My paperwork said it all "threatened abortion." When I read those words, I just knew I was going to have another angel.
Sunday morning around 2, I woke up to blood and pain. I was huddled over in pain and knew that I was miscarrying. Thank goodness your father insisted I go to the hospital. I was shaking in pain the short ride there and when I arrived I told the man what was happening.
I am taken in right away. The nurse sits at the desk and I sit on the chair. Although she heard everything I told the man in the window, she asked me what happened. I said it again "I'm having a miscarriage". I told her about the ER visit earlier. I told her how I woke up with blood and pain and that I took ibuprofen to help with the pain. She looks at me and asks "You're pregnant?" I said I was and she replies with "you're not supposed to take ibuprofen if you are pregnant."
Eve Believe, I have seen so much ugly in this world. And in that moment, I could have turned and slapped her. I could have turned to her and said, "Thanks a lot you insensitive cow." I could have done so many things. But I didn't. I said again I was miscarrying. She gets up and slowly walks down the hall to bring us to our room. She does not speak to any of the nurses and leaves us there. My hands start to go numb. I can't believe this is happening to me again. I call for a nurse and say I can't feel my hands.
A nurse comes to the room and takes my blood pressure. I told her what happened. I told her about the insensitive cow. I told her about you. I told her I can't believe I am losing another baby.
The doctor comes in and we talk. They finally give me pain medicine to help with the pain. The doctor does a pelvic exam and sees that I am having a miscarriage and I have tissue causing the pain. He removes it and I immediately feel relief. I am so grateful for that doctor. He was so compassionate and understanding.
When we were alone, your daddy and I cried for our baby. We decided to call her Raine since she was supposed to be our rainbow and it could be unisex. Even though we thought she was a girl, we still wanted a unisex name in case. You have a sibling. You are a big sister. You get to be with her and I don't. Please take care of her.
I imagine you both running through a field holding hands and giggling. I imagine you playing with each other and giving kisses to Grandma Muggy. I imagine you both happy. Your daddy and I love you both, forever and always.
Love,
Mommy
Mean Body
Dear Genevieve,
I thought for sure I was pregnant. I thought for sure you were going to be a big sister. I thought for sure this was going to be the month.
I was late. I was get nauseous. I was using the restroom frequently. All of the signs were looking good. All of the signs were pointing to me being pregnant.
Until today. Today all of that was shattered. All of my hopes and dreams for the future of the potential baby came to an end. It feels like failing. I feel silly for evening hoping or dreaming I was actually pregnant. Of course it wouldn't happen for me.
I love you, and I want you to be a big sister. I want to be a mommy to a baby I can hold too.
The inbetween is so hard for me. I don't know what I can do differently. I feel so hopeless.
None of this is your fault. I love you now and always.
Love,
Mommy
The inbetween is so hard for me. I don't know what I can do differently. I feel so hopeless.
None of this is your fault. I love you now and always.
Love,
Mommy
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