baby loss

Journal Entry: 9

It’s 4:24 PM, September 30th. Grief is cruel. As soon as you think you have a grip on things, something happens to flip your emotions upside down.

This morning I thought I had everything under control. I didn’t even cry.

But then I got in the shower and looked at my shrinking stomach and cried. And then that thought led to so many others.

My sweet Lyla pointed out my belly and noted that mommy has a big belly- this has been a topic of conversation in our home for several months now.

Mommy’s growing belly with her baby brother.

Lyla would pat my belly in her sweet attempt to show that she would be gentle with him.

My sweet girl has seen her mommy so sad this past week.

This breaks my heart.

It breaks my heart that she has seen me so upset and that it affects her.

In her sweet voice she’ll ask me and her daddy if mommy is sad.

In my attempt to reassure her, I’ll tell her that I am sad but I then give her a kiss and tell her how much she makes me happy.

There is no way I could get through this without her.

Steven keeps reminding me that she needs her mommy.

And that is my motivation every single day.

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Journal Entry: 8

It’s 5:34 AM, September 30th. One week has gone by without our Scotty. One week from when we found out about the loss of a heartbeat. And one week from looking at the most beautiful face and taking in every inch of the most perfect baby boy.

It’s still unreal.

This still doesn’t feel like my life.

But it is and slowly, ever so slowly, I think I’m coming to grips with it.

The part I struggle with the most is why him?

I took care of my body.

I took care of him while he was with me.

And he was so healthy.

This was going to be another perfect pregnancy with another perfect baby.

But that’s not what God had planned.

And I just can’t understand why.

Yesterday we knew we needed to get out of the house. So we decided to go to an apple farm.

The weather was perfect and the fresh air did our family some good.

I made Steven drive to one that was over an hour away (there is one much closer to our home). But I’m terrified of seeing someone we know while we’re out.

As we walked the apple farm, I thought about how nobody has any idea that just a week ago, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.

To the world, they don’t see the heavy hearts we wear and the sweet baby boy we carry with us.

It’s just so weird. I have two children.

I gave birth to two babies. But to strangers…

I can’t even form these words. I have them in my head but I can’t put them down.

Because he is so, so real. He is our son.

He is Scotty.

And in God’s own way, he’s reminding us that he is in control and Scotty is always with us.

Like when we were making our way to a pony ride for Lyla and a group of kids ran in front of us. They were laughing and having fun when one of the kids shouted to their friend-

their friend named Scotty.

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Journal Entry: 7

It’s 6:11 AM, September 29th. Yesterday was an awful day. As soon as I woke up I knew it would be an awful day.

Every hour I thought back to what I was doing during that same hour just one week ago.

It’s torture.

Losing a child is literally living in hell.

It’s dark, lonely, sad, confusing, and a torture that cannot be described.

Yesterday we got a call from my Doctor letting us know that the pathology report came back on my placenta.

It confirmed what she suspected in the hospital.

My placenta separated from my uterus causing an abruption.

I had absolutely zero symptoms.

No bleeding.

No abdominal pain.

Nothing.

But my baby, Scotty, suffered the ultimate loss.

A loss of oxygen.

My body failed me.

Yesterday I yelled out something I haven’t yet, “Why did God do this?”

How could He take such a perfect life? In a way that my Doctor describes as a freak accident?

I’m healthy.

Scotty was healthy.

To top off the day we also had to discuss his death certificate with our Doctor.

The funeral home had been in contact with Steven to let him know that they haven’t received the paperwork from our Doctor to confirm the death and proceed with the cremation.

Yup. Pure torture.

It turns out that our Doctor wasn’t even setup to be able to sign for this sort of thing.

For her year and a half with our practice, she hasn’t needed to sign for death.

She’s used to bringing life into this world.

That’s how little this happens.

Until now.

My heart is absolutely broken.

Shattered.

What I would do to have my baby boy.

Thank goodness for Steven and his strength right now- his strength to hold me up.

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