My husband and I had only been married for 6 months when we found out we were pregnant. We were scared because we had just turned 19 and were about to go to college, but we were excited to start this new chapter of our lives.
We went to the first prenatal appointment at 11 weeks. The midwife placed the doppler on my stomach, smile and said, "There's your baby's heart beat."
After a few more seconds of listening she got a puzzled look on her face and said, "No,I'm sorry. That's your heartbeat."
After a few more minutes of searching gave up. She scheduled us for an ultrasound a week later.
At the ultrasound the next Friday there was a little baby on the screen, but not what you would expect for 12 weeks, so the midwife scheduled yet another appointment for the next Friday. It seemed like an eternity to wait, but I held on to that small shred of hope that it was just too soon.
The next week my husband had surgery so I had to go into the appointment alone.
The midwife placed the wand on my stomach and took some measurements before turning the machine off and sitting down next to me in a chair.
She had a sad look in her eyes and said, "I'm sorry sweetie." My heart sank and I didn't know what to think. I had a week to prepare myself for the possibility, but it didn't lessen the blow that my baby didn't make it.
I was given the option to either take a pill, or wait and have my body do it naturally. I chose to do it naturally.
It took two weeks from the time I had learned that I lost the baby to start the miscarrying process.
I was so mad at my body. I felt like it let me down, letting me think I was pregnant for 12 weeks. I also blamed myself. If I hadn't gone running in the heat right before I found out, or if I hadn't gone to a concert the night before maybe it wouldn't have happened.
It has been 3 years since my miscarriage and the pain is still there. I think about what my baby would have been like, but I know that somewhere that beautiful little baby is waiting for me.