When Dreams Come Crashing Down
“I’m not picking up a heartbeat.” These were the words I replay over and over again in my head. These were the words my husband, Jon and I received on February 4th, 2016. I can still hear the tone in the nurse’s voice and the look in her eye when she delivered this news. Maybe she was wrong. How could this be happening, again? Did I do something wrong? Was there something wrong with Jon? Am I not meant to be a mother? After all, this had just happened not even three months ago. We had just seen our baby’s heartbeat a week earlier and now our baby was gone. GONE. How could this be?
Jon and I had been trying for almost two years for our bundle of joy and when I saw the strip turn pink I could not believe my eyes. It was one of the happiest days of my life! But the happiness was short lived when two months later we were most likely in the same position of needing to say goodbye to another one of our angels along with our hopes, dreams, and plans for her.
We were put into an examination room for privacy as we awaited our fate. In the other room there were laughing nurses enjoying their lunch breaks. Everything inside of me screamed, “Don’t they know we just lost our baby?” It was then I realized how lonely the road through grief might feel for us. Forty-five minutes later (but what felt like an eternity) the doctor knocked to confirm our greatest fear. Our baby was truly gone. It was in this room that I was given my options on how to move forward. I was just given the worst news of my life and now I had to make a choice?
For two weeks I felt like a tomb as I agonized over what decision to make. I continued to deny the truth that was given to me and therefore demanded test after test for confirmation. These tests continuously came to the same conclusion… my pregnancy was no longer viable; my precious baby that I had longed for was longer growing in my womb.
People gave their listening ears, some gave their advice, but I knew no one could make this decision for me. It was my body and my baby and therefore I knew that I needed to make the final call.
After I made the choice I was utterly and completely drained, unable to make any decision for quite some time. I wrestled with whether or not I did the right thing. After weeks and months removed I have come to a place of peace with the judgment I made but to this day it is a decision I wish I did not have to make. I am no doctor. I did not go to years of medical school to make this decision. Yet, the ball was thrown into my court without regard for the beginning stages of my grief.
It was now February 19th 2016 and our baby was gone, stripped away from me, from us. Never to be seen again on this side of eternity.
One of the hardest parts about losing my babies has been being a mother who never gets to be with her children. A mom, whose babies are never to be held, kissed, cuddled, or rocked to sleep. A mom whose babies are never to take their first steps, hit a homerun, or go to dance class; never to have their first Christmas, prom, or graduation. Just gone.
As I journey through my grief I have found that reading stories and quotes seem to aid in my healing process. One night, I came across beautiful words about a mother who has always had a desire of holding her babies on her lap as she told them about God and she goes on and prays that since her babies could not be with her on this earth that God would hold her beautiful babies on His lap and tells them about her. Oh God, please tell them about me!
If you or a loved one has struggled with infertility or suffered the unimaginable loss of a precious little love please know that I am here. I see you. I know you. I am holding you.