A loss

On September 19, I had one of the biggest surprises of my life when I found out I was pregnant with baby #2. That week, I happened to be at home with my son who was sick, so I had the fun opportunity of getting him a "Big brother" shirt and dressing him up to surprise daddy that evening.

Daddy was shocked, to say the least.

We hadn't planned for two under two, but after a few days went by, we started getting excited and envisioning our new lives as parents of two.

The pregnancy progressed very smoothly. Maybe too smoothly. I commented many times how strange it was that I felt no symptoms, as I had been nauseated, fatigued, and terribly run down while pregnant with Darian. But I told myself that every pregnancy was different, and to count my blessings that I was feeling so great.

On October 17, I had a dating ultrasound. Early ultrasounds aren't standard for low-risk pregnancies, but I had requested one for peace of mind because of the lack of symptoms. Thus started a rollercoaster of emotions that we've been riding for the past week.

The ultrasound showed what looked like a 5.5 week pregnancy. I should have been close to 8 weeks. No heartbeat. Nothing was diagnosed; I was ordered to do bloodwork, and a follow-up ultrasound in a week. I was not optimistic.

Two days later, the bleeding started. I cried at the sight. I didn't know whether I would cry, given that I knew it was inevitable. But it felt good to start letting it out after holding my breath for the past two days. In hindsight, I'm grateful and amazed that it started so quickly, on its own.

By God's grace, I hope that our baby is now in heaven, and has a good spot to sit and watch over us. Over the past week, I have been slowly trying to move on. I find that there is something new to think about, something new to grieve, every day. But that feels like progress, I think progress is good.