Lightening Crashes
From Friday Morning, January 22nd...
“Well, I am looking for the heartbeat but I am not finding it. It should be right here.” He points to a place on the baby. There is nothing moving. He enlarges it. Still nothing. I know what this means but I just lay there and wait. “I’m sorry,” he says. “The baby is 8 weeks, 5 days, exactly as it is supposed to be. I would say the heart stopped just yesterday or today. Not long ago.” I listen. I hear the words but I refuse at this point to acknowledge them. Not until I sit up. When I sit up, reality smacks me in the face. And it stings.
It is one thing to lose a baby at age 24. I have done that. It was heartbreaking, don’t get me wrong. It felt like the end of the world. But in looking back on it, I also had some 10 to 15 years to have another one. Losing a baby at 40 is different. It feels like the end of the world. But time is not available to me.
In some ways, I am in denial. I have been scouring the internet for stories…who had an ultrasound at 8 weeks that showed no heartbeat and it turned out fine. The heartbeat came back. A mistake had been made. The baby was positioned such that it didn’t show. There are no stories. Just those who miscarried some 4 days to 6 weeks later. Bodies bleeding, wombs contracting, dead babies in sacks expelling themselves. I am horrified but I keep looking. I delay lighting candles so I can try to live just a little longer in my denial.
We have to tell the kids. I cry while they sit on the couch and wait. Chandler is confused. “Come on, Aunt Kimber, why are you so sad?” I say, “I went to the doctor…” and he immediately knows. He tips his head back and sighs. Alia waits. I mumble the rest. She sobs uncontrollably, on and on and on and on. Rob goes to Alia to comfort her. I cannot do it. I can just cry, where I am sitting. It is like I am paralyzed. Chandler comes over to put his arm around me. Says kind things to me.
And this is my day.
“Well, I am looking for the heartbeat but I am not finding it. It should be right here.” He points to a place on the baby. There is nothing moving. He enlarges it. Still nothing. I know what this means but I just lay there and wait. “I’m sorry,” he says. “The baby is 8 weeks, 5 days, exactly as it is supposed to be. I would say the heart stopped just yesterday or today. Not long ago.” I listen. I hear the words but I refuse at this point to acknowledge them. Not until I sit up. When I sit up, reality smacks me in the face. And it stings.
It is one thing to lose a baby at age 24. I have done that. It was heartbreaking, don’t get me wrong. It felt like the end of the world. But in looking back on it, I also had some 10 to 15 years to have another one. Losing a baby at 40 is different. It feels like the end of the world. But time is not available to me.
In some ways, I am in denial. I have been scouring the internet for stories…who had an ultrasound at 8 weeks that showed no heartbeat and it turned out fine. The heartbeat came back. A mistake had been made. The baby was positioned such that it didn’t show. There are no stories. Just those who miscarried some 4 days to 6 weeks later. Bodies bleeding, wombs contracting, dead babies in sacks expelling themselves. I am horrified but I keep looking. I delay lighting candles so I can try to live just a little longer in my denial.
We have to tell the kids. I cry while they sit on the couch and wait. Chandler is confused. “Come on, Aunt Kimber, why are you so sad?” I say, “I went to the doctor…” and he immediately knows. He tips his head back and sighs. Alia waits. I mumble the rest. She sobs uncontrollably, on and on and on and on. Rob goes to Alia to comfort her. I cannot do it. I can just cry, where I am sitting. It is like I am paralyzed. Chandler comes over to put his arm around me. Says kind things to me.
And this is my day.
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