Goodbye Little Bean

It's been weeks since we saw our little bean and heard his beating heart. Aside from a little morning sickness, exhaustion, aversion to my prenatals, and the flu everything has been relatively normal.

I, however, haven't felt normal or excited or happy. Not like I did in those first weeks of pregnancy before it all got stressful and complicated. I had mourned the loss of my little bean and had a hard time recovering. I just didn't feel right.

It feels awful to call that feeling intuition. No one wants to believe the bad feelings (unease, if you will) they've been having will prove to be correct. I don't want to believe it.

However, my little bean is gone and my body has betrayed me. After much bleeding and contraction-like pains, we went to the emergency room.

They told us that baby was gone.

They told us my uterus was empty.

I still don't understand it.

Knowing the "miscarriage" is a common occurrence doesn't make it less of a shock.

At the hospital and for several days after, I was OK. I expected this...blah, blah. Now I'm not as OK. Now I'm longing to see another picture of my little bean and hear that beautiful heartbeat. The picture hanging on the fridge is the only one we will ever have.

So, "Goodbye my little bean. We love you."

Little Bean: Part 6

This morning we went back to the doctor. After a week of waiting, bad news, no news, mourning, and more waiting we're here for answers. We expect for them to tell us that our little bean is gone. We'll never see him or hear his voice. It's funny (funny strange, not funny haha) how knowing you're pregnant for a few weeks can have such a profound impact on you. This baby is yours and generally loved despite how excited or terrified you are about the pregnancy.

In the ultrasound room we wait and hold hands as the tech peruses my uterus. The thing she says, when she finally speaks blows us away. She sees baby and a heartbeat. Then she lets us hear it. It is strong and clear, like it's always been that way. It is beautiful. We are amazed. We are overcome.

The nurses hear little bean's heartbeat and are overjoyed for us. Everyone is so kind. I am just shocked. I am relieved to be able to give my family good news after weeks of telling them we have no answers. Today, we have an answer. Little bean is alive and growing.

Today I am pregnant and I love my baby.

Little Bean: Part 5

Yesterday we got the call with less than good news. The call I've been expecting for weeks.

Last night we actually had a decent conversation about how much our situation sucks.

This morning, first thing, we fought about laundry. Of all things to fight about it get emotional about, it was laundry. My husband went outside to be productive (READ: avoid me).

Why is it when emotions run high and we are feeling vulnerable, we allow it to tear us apart instead of bringing us together? Sometimes I feel like we stuck at marriage...or I do. I guess it depends on the day. But reaching out making your self vulnerable is hard. Relationships are hard.

I'm hoping we find our way through this. We usually do. Fingers crossed for a better tomorrow.

Little Bean: Part 4

I waited for the doctor to call most of the morning. As time passed I went from concerned to downright stressed.

When I got the call, the news wasn't good. My hormone levels had been rising normally for the past few weeks, despite my pain and bleeding. Today, that wasn't the case.

After I got vague answers from the doctor, I had to call my husband at work. I relayed the message and then we were quiet. What do you say to each other when your heart is breaking over the loss of your little one (whom you've never met)? There aren't words to bridge that gap.

A while later, I reached out to a friend. Her response? "Damnit! I hate this for you." Her anger on my behalf, as well as the fact that her words conveyed solidarity instead of pity helped my heart a little.

A heart that's hurting needs that. Feeling alone in this is hard. While there are many people I could reach out to, they all have feelings about the little bean. They too are emotionally invested. Seeking healing for my heart will hurt theirs. I'm not ready to do that until I have confirmed answers.

Is my little bean alive and well? Will we lose him? Today we don't know. We wait.

Little Bean: Part 3

We were hoping for some answers this morning. For a week we've been looking forward to these precious moments where we get to see our little bean and watch the heart rate flicker on the screen.

We didn't get what we were hoping for. No baby. No tiny heart beat. No answers.

"Wait a week," they say. "It may be too early." But I know what we should have seen on the screen and laugh as the doctor tells us not to panic...yet.

Little Bean: Part 2

Today, it was just a normal day. I was out running some errands with my wood thing, when I suddenly knew something was wrong. By the time we got home I was bleeding and panicking.

The doctor had no answers to my frank question. She didn't know what was wrong or if my growing baby was OK. I wanted answers; instead I got bed rest, blood tests, and an ultrasound scheduled in a week. (Can you imagine bed rest with a 35 lb wild thing at home? Not likely to occur.)

This isn't how it's supposed to be. You get pregnant and enjoy/suffer through those early symptoms. Then you have a doctor's appointment and hear your baby's heart beat.

I may never see my little bean or hear his little heart beat.

Little Bean: Part 1

That very faint line on the stick keeps getting darker. Can it actually be true? Are we expecting another little one?

We spent several days waiting and examining lines before I ended up at the doctor with some minor complications. This pregnancy is not starting out like any of my others, but we are emotional and excited (terrified?) about some new little person joining our family.

Fingers crossed for the little bean.