A memory...

I'm a bit melancholy. I'm a bit sad. The sadness is from my heart. A heart that remembers a moment. A moment not so long ago. Five years ago.

It's Sunday. I'm at the airport once again. Waiting for my flight out to NC. Another week away from my hubby. But work is work and I've got to go. One last visit to the bathroom before I board.

What's that? Blood? Only a little.

Give my hubby one last kiss before I board. The flight is uneventful. I get to my hotel.

Hmm...a little more blood. Okay. Don't freak out. It's that old dark looking blood. It's not bright red. Don't freak out.

I go about my work like I normally do. But there's a shadow each minute. I try not to think about what might be happening. But it's lingering over my every move. I can't help but feel anxious. I'm afraid. Wednesday morning. There's red blood.

No! No! This can't be happening. I have to go home. I have to go home today!

I call the airlines frantically.

I need to get on a plane home today! It's a medical emergency. Please!

Thankfully, I'm able to change my flight from Friday to Wednesday. Same flight...different day.

Honey, I'm coming home. There's something wrong. Pick me up at the normal time at the airport.

First thing Thursday morning I call my OBs office. I explain to them what's been happening. They schedule me into a slot 30 minutes later.

I go into the office by myself. My OB asks me to explain what specifially has been happening. He then examines me. He calls down the hall to the ultrasound place.

I go down the hall to the ultrasound office. The technician performs an internal ultrasound since I'm still in my first trimester. I see the sack. And that's all I see. The technician doesn't say anything. I don't ask.

I walk back to my OBs office. My OB is waiting to talk to me. I'm in my 11th week of pregnancy. The embryo is only measuring 7 weeks. It stopped growing. There's no heartbeat.

I'm numb. I'm alone. My little baby has died. It died four weeks ago and I didn't know it!

My OB explains that my body seems to be having a natural miscarriage. He tells me that he doesn't want to intercede in what my body seems to be doing naturally.

It can take a few days. It can take a few hours. He wants me to be prepared. It might hurt. Here's a prescription for a pain killer. Go home. Stay off your feet. Call us with any questions. We're so sorry.

I go home. I cry. I tell hubby. We hug. We wait.

Friday before lunch I feel pain coming on. Not aching. Real pain. Oh no! It's happening! I don't have any pain meds! I rush to Walgreens. I hand them my prescription. It seems to take them a million years to fill it. I want to scream. I want to tell them to hurry up.

I'm having a miscarriage here people! Give me the drugs!

I rush home. I take the meds. I sit. I wait. A couple hours later. It passes from me. My baby. I catch it in a piece of toilet paper. It's so little.

It's over.

I'm numb. I stay numb. My hubby comes home. I tell him it's over. We hug.

No one knew we were trying to get pregnant. We were going to start telling our families that Saturday. Once I hit the 12 week mark. We never told anyone we had that miscarriage. Even 5 years later no one knows of that first pregnancy.

I know my hubby doesn't contemplate that loss anymore. He concentrates on the two kids we have now.

Every year I wonder. I wonder if that baby was a boy or a girl. I wonder what type of personality that child would have had. I wonder what that child would have looked like. I wonder so many things about that baby.

I hope that baby we lost knows that I still love it. That one day we'll be reunited.

You are not just a memory. You are a piece of my heart little one.