I’m actually sitting here typing this with butterflies in my stomach. Why? I am extremely nervous! I hate it when people go on and on about something of no interest and then I figured, maybe someone would be interested. With that thought in mind I decided to write a blog.
By no means do I presume to think that I can write or that there will be anyone finding this interesting but I am hoping to get something very important to me out into the world or at least claim what happened and how it got me here.
This is how it all started. My first pregnancy was not what I had expected. My husband and I had been trying for a month and there it was a perfect plus sign! I went to the store, bought a bib embroidered with, I love daddy, put it in a bag (under his favorite candy) and thrust it into his hands as soon as he got home. I honestly cannot remember his expression for I was far too caught up in my own bliss. However he was elated and his first thoughts were to tell his parents. Which we promptly did that evening. It was no surprise to them; they had guessed it as soon as we asked to come over for an impromptu dinner. We then spent the evening happily chatting about our future child and grandchild.
It killed me waiting the week for my first prenatal appointment, but when it came I couldn’t have been happier to see my perfect little one on the monitor. Of course all we saw was a small speck, but that speck was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I was utterly in love. I was already certain it was a girl and had instantly referred to the baby as “she” or “her” instead of “it” (which I hate). My husband and I picked a name and had decided to keep it secret until the baby was born. Everything was going great except for one small detail, I wasn’t as far along as they had thought. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, not even when the doctor wanted to see me the next week. I thought this is great I get to come see my baby again.
It became a joke after my next few visits that every time I went to the doctor I was less pregnant. I was always a week behind where I should have been, until my final appointment when it was clear there was no heartbeat. I couldn’t believe it at first. I was young, health, nothing had gone wrong and yet there was a baby and now there wasn’t. I had a D&C the next day, which I can’t even begin to describe. Heartbroken and empty I walked out of the doctors office, with my husband holding me up and I was never the same.
I cried for what seemed like forever. The hardest part was telling people what happened. Every time I started to move on, a distant family friend would call to congratulate me, and the pain would seep back in. It might sound strange but I never felt more alive than after I lost her. Alive in the most horrific way, for I had never felt such acute pain in my life. I felt as if nothing had ever mattered more to me than that baby and I couldn’t have her. I would never have her. I tried a million things to feel as though I was moving on. Died my blond hair black, got a tattoo in memory of my late grandmother and shut out everyone and every feeling. It wasn’t until I started reading books on the paranormal and fantasy that I started to find interest in life (which is ironic since all the books I was reading were about anything but real life). I guess that was the point, to let my mind wonder into a state of impossible. That within those few hours of the day, people could become something so unbelievable I couldn’t help but want it to be real. I was hooked! I read every vampire, witch, wizard, ghost, werewolf and mythical book I could find. And then I wrote one…
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