Yesterday we had our second “viability” ultrasound. There was no heartbeat. The baby had not grown from 6 weeks, 4 days, in fact, it got smaller to 6 weeks and 1 or 2 days.
I stopped all meds… No more heparin, no more progesterone. We’re assuming the septum is the cause of the demise, but no one can really say for sure. Little Poult didn’t even have a fighting chance.
Of course I was given the option of letting it pass naturally or having a D&C. The only reason for doing a D&C is so they can “test the product.” For now, I’m choosing things to happen on their own time. I haven’t started bleeding yet, but based on the way I feel, I’m sure it’s coming soon.
As I type this, I’m at a loss for words. There’s so much to say and yet, nothing at all. Upset and devastated just aren’t strong enough. Where do we go from here? Talk of another septum resection surgery… freezing my eggs until we have a surrogate… getting a vasectomy…
How did I even get here?
When did I become someone who couldn’t give my husband the most basic, primal thing? When did I stop wanting to try again? What the hell is this feeling? Is this postpartum? How did I climb out of this hole three times before? How did I become an unpregnant pregnant woman? How did I become a mother to no one? Why are there no answers? How the fuck did I become someone who has another dead baby inside of them?
Tomorrow’s my 34th birthday. When my best friend and I were talking on Tuesday, she asked how I was going to spend my birthday. I told her, “I just want to spend the day pregnant.” I should have amended that and said that I wanted to spend the day pregnant with a live baby. Stupid me.
I don’t know where I go from here… I am going off of Facebook. I can’t handle another ultrasound/pregnant belly/first birthday/here’s my sick kid/Easter picture. I don’t want to work because some pregnant woman might come in. I might have to help yet another mom figure out the perfect shade of baby blue for the nursery. I might have to design a nursery or a kids room. I don’t want to read blogs anymore. I can’t hear about dead babies and potential pregnancies anymore. We try, and try, and for what? This? This, my friends, is shit.
I’m just going to have to do what I can do. Cry, sleep and wait.