Rainy Days Ahead

This weather seems perfectly fitting...cold, dreary and depressing.

I already knew what I was going to say when I posted my "I'm pregnant!" blog post...I've been thinking about it for weeks.  It's been a long time coming.  But, instead...

...we suffered another miscarriage this past weekend.

I was 13 weeks pregnant, again.

I was just letting myself get excited.  There were no signs that I should be worried...no "bad" feelings that something just wasn't right...I really thought we had done it!  We hadn't told hardly anyone, but we were slowly starting to share our joyful news because we wanted so badly to be able to be excited about it.  I heard a sweet, strong heartbeat at 2pm on Friday afternoon...and by midnight, it was gone.

To back up a bit...you may remember at the beginning of January a post about Taylor telling me I had a baby in my tummy.  Well, she was right.  She told me a week and a half before I found out I was pregnant that I had a baby in my tummy!  She knew. :)  We hadn't told her anything, but she came to an ultrasound with me at about 10 1/2 weeks, and as soon as she saw the screen she said "Mommy, you have a baby in your tummy!  That's so special!"  She asked if she could hold the baby, when it would come out of my tummy, and so many other questions about her "baby sister."  She was so, super excited.  For the last few weeks she's been lifting up my shirt and saying "Mommy, look...your baby's growing!"

My very first thought as I realized what was happening on Friday night was "Oh dear God, this is going to break her heart..."  I felt awful for all of us, but especially for Taylor and our baby who she already loved so much.

We knew if this happened again we wanted answers.  So, we made the gut-wrenching decision to try to save what we could and take it in for testing.  We were successful...and it was awful.  We kept our tiny, perfect, beautiful little baby wrapped up until the next morning when we took it to the hospital...and I'm so glad we did.  A wonderful L&D nurse took us into a room, unwrapped our special little package, and let us take a look...and say good-bye.  She took tiny little footprints that I will cherish forever.  I have a picture in my mind of those ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes.  And we're not sure, but she thinks it was a baby boy.

It feels a little easier this time...maybe because I feel like there was something tangible this time, something to hold on to and remember our sweet babe.  Or maybe it's just because we've been down this road four times now...and we're getting used to the scenery.

The hardest part for me right now, is coming to the realization that our babies were healthy.  They were living, and my body rejected and betrayed them.  It betrayed me, and Matt and Taylor..and quite frankly, I'd get rid of it if I could.  Trade it in for a newer model.  One that doesn't need progesterone injections every day, and one that doesn't make me sick every day.  One that doesn't need constant poking and prodding and surgery and medicine and just knows what it's supposed to do.  Because this one...I just don't trust it with my babies' lives anymore.

But...we're gonna be ok.  We have amazing friends and family who are always here, no matter what...and that is something so special!  My house is full of flowers, my fridge is full of food, and my heart is so full of love and support from all the prayers, calls, texts, cards and visits.

Thank you for lifting us up!

We know these are the times we need to lean on God the most, and having people standing strong with us and believing in our dreams with us means everything.

We are so blessed by you, and you know who you are. :)

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥