When we found out about you, it felt like our dreams had suddenly come true overnight.
We were so excited, so nervous, so curious and already so in love. We made our appointment and confirmed we were pregnant with you. From that moment on, you consumed us. Everything we did, we were doing it for you. You filled our minds just as much as you filled our hearts. You consumed our thoughts and our lives in so many wonderful ways. We talked to you every day and I carried you with such pride. Your daddy gave my stomach a kiss every day before work and you were the first thing we talked about when we got home every night. We made our appointment for our first ultrasound. We were beyond excited. Words can’t describe the feeling I had knowing that we were going to see you for the first time. We longed to hear your heartbeat – we wanted to see how healthy you were for ourselves. We met each other at the doctor. I was shaking with excitement. Your daddy left all his belongings at work because he knew after our perfect ultrasound, he would return to work with a smile and our first picture of you.
I hopped up on the table as soon as I entered the room. Your daddy sat beside me as we watched the big screen right in front of us. I looked at him smiling knowing how magical this moment would be. The tech put the machine on my stomach and searched for you in a sea of black on the screen. She spotted you but wanted a closer look. She did an alternative ultrasound to see your little body better. We were more anxious by the minute.
“I can’t find a heartbeat…” she said. My first thought was that our baby is stubborn just like mom and dad.
“Your sac is irregular shaped…” she said. My second thought was that it makes sense that our baby is unique.
We weren’t understanding. She wasn’t clear. You were not breathing and you were slowly preparing to leave my body. You were lifeless and we didn’t have a clue. We held on to hope as we saw the results verified. You had stopped growing at six weeks three days. You were so tiny, you were so small. You were an innocent baby that had already lost its life, and your parents had no idea.
We sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. You were our baby, our first miracle. You were our future and our present. You were a dream come true. You were an answered prayer. You were the sparkle in our eyes and the smiles on our faces. You were so many things to us, but you were not alive. Your short life had ended, and we didn’t even know how, when, or why.
Needless to say, daddy didn’t return to work with a picture in his hand. We went home, hand in hand, and we laid in bed and held each other and just sobbed knowing that we would never hear your heartbeat. You were still inside of me and it was only a matter of time until we lost that comfort too. All of our excitement had turned into sorrow. And there was a lot of excitement.
We would never hear your heartbeat. I would never feel you kick. Your daddy would never get to lay on my stomach and impatiently wait until he could feel you kick, too. We wouldn’t ever get to hold you or see who you would look like. We wouldn’t get to celebrate your birth with all of the people who love us, and all of the people who would grow to love you too. We had a whole new set of firsts coming on. The first person we would tell the devastating news to. The first time we would see the gifts we had already received for you that were waiting at home. The first baby email that I would see congratulating me on making it another day in the wild ride of pregnancy. The first day of life after finding out that we lost you. The ‘firsts’ seemed to be never-ending. We loved you like there was no tomorrow…and then there wasn’t.
When it sank in that I’ve been carrying a baby that wasn’t even alive, I felt so empty…so lost…so confused. I was carrying you as if you were still breathing. We have been speaking about you as if we had already had the chance to meet you. We’ve been planning for you as if you were due next week. We planned to take such good care of you. We planned to make your life as meaningful as you had already made ours. I prayed for you and dreamt of you and for the 10 weeks and one day that I carried you, I felt so complete. I know that we were giving you the best start to life as we knew how to, and I know in my now broken heart that you would have loved us for that.
I have been searching for the blessing in this situation. I keep reminding myself that God has a plan and we will meet you one day. If the doctor is right and you had a chromosomal defect that ended your life, then I find this blessing.
You were never in pain, you never suffered, you were never cold, you were never hungry, and most importantly you were never, ever alone. Your life ended while you were literally surrounded by the person who loved you the most.
We will never think of you as a “lost pregnancy.” You are not just a tragic curveball suddenly thrown at us. You are not “just a miscarriage” and you were not “just a fetus.” You were our first baby, and you will always be just that. We loved you for every second of your life, and we will continue to love you for every second of ours.
I’ve always heard that you will never love your husband as much as you will when you see him holding your first child. I disagree. I have never loved my husband as much as I do after seeing how much he loved our child that he never even had the chance to meet.
You will always be our first baby, and we will always love you.
All my love,
— Melissa, @lukasmelissa
Photo credit: adapted from zeevveez| Flickr