It all began with a bit of shock and excitement. Two lines on a pregnancy test, and I could not comprehend the change that was going to take place in my life! My husband met my reaction with the same mingled joy and fear as I had, and immediately our hearts and minds began to think about the future of this baby.
Then came the reading. What to eat, how to deal with morning sickness, how big the little peanut was, week after week. Talking constantly with other mothers about pregnancy, charley horses in the night, back pains, and bowing to the porcelain Goddess during those 14 weeks of morning sickness. But still, my mind and heart was set on the ending result. The unimaginable glory--- the life-changing joy that would grace our lives in an instant.
Next came the movement. I first felt it lying in bed one night, and exclaimed I had felt the first kick! My excitement grew stronger and her presence became more obvious with each passing day. Soon after, daddy began to join the excitement, putting his hand on my belly every time she was awake. He would talk to my belly, his face very close, so that she would recognize his voice when she came.
Then there was the ultrasound. Unfathomable, yet there before our very eyes, we saw our baby kicking back in her little home. We received the news that we were having a girl! And immediately we felt like parents to the daughter we saw wiggling around in there, just waiting for that moment our eyes would meet.
Oh, and the shopping. Everywhere I went, I had my baby on my mind. What will she wear? What will she need? I wanted to be prepared for everything I could possibly want when she arrived. Things were donated, things were bought at yard sales, baby showers were held. Everyone around us was excited for our new arrival.
The weeks before her due date seemed to crawl. I wrote up a birth plan, talked to natural birthing centers, read a magazine on natural labor. I was ready to bring this life into the world, and all I could do was wait. The waiting seemed to last forever.
And then, the contractions began. An overwhelming sense of excitement rushed through my body every time I fathomed what might happen next. A joyous, intense excitement that wouldn't go away. I wanted to bring that baby home today, every day. Every moment was intensely anticipated.
And when I set off into labor on that sunny afternoon, just after my husband had come home from work, I knew this was it. The pain of the contractions were almost met with the excitement and delight I felt, that I was bringing our daughter into this world... that we would see her in just a few hours, and meet her face to face! That moment is indescribable... rushing about the house as the anticipation rises, and the excitement is overwhelming. Soon we will have our new baby with us!!
In labor you enter a whole new world. The hospital nurses ushering me up to the room became a blur, as my mind and body focused on the task at hand. I am bringing her to life. I am bringing her home. I can make it through, because it will all be worth it when I hold her next to me.
And then, in one moment, everything was taken from me. Suddenly all that I had done, all that I had dreamed and loved, all the excitement and joy, all the anticipation, all that I had given my heart, mind, body and soul to for this seemingly life-long pregnancy was gone. Everything we had wanted and hoped. Everything was gone.
It was as if someone had said very shortly, "sorry, but this 9 months of aches and pains, anticipation and love, it was all just a big joke. No you get to finish off this hoax with an excruciating finish, and then you're outta here. There is NO baby."
I did not understand.
How can there be no baby? If there is no baby, why must I still deliver? If this is one big trick you have played on me, and I will not be bringing home my baby, why must I still go through with labor? If it was a joke, why can't I just go home and deal with my pain?
"But no, you cannot just go home. You must first deliver and hold the baby that you SHOULD be taking home, just so you can see how much you wish she could have stayed."
And so I delivered this little girl, my own little baby, my daughter. And held her warm body in my arms, looked down into her perfect face, just to finish off this long prank with torture. Just so I could see how beautiful she was, how perfect and pretty she was. How much I loved holding her and kissing her soft head. Just so I could wonder why she wouldn't just wake up. So I might still have one sliver of hope that could still be destroyed. A hope that this really wasn't all a trick, and maybe I could bring my baby home after all. That maybe she really was alive, and they had made a mistake. I could see her! She was right here in my arms! Why couldn't I just take her home with me like I wanted? Like all the books and magazines and mommies told me I was going to!
But it was still just to intensify my pain, and shatter me even more. To show me the baby I had carried was real, but I didn't get to keep her.
They made me say goodbye to her before I ever got to say hello.
And then we drove home. With a little empty car seat in the back. With the nursery and the clothes in her little pink bedroom to greet us. With reminders on every corner of what could have been; of the baby we should be holding in our arms! And a body that was teasing me too. A body that had just given birth to a baby, and automatically ran the course for feeding and holding her. A body that would not understand that my baby had died! "Couldn't you just leave me alone? And stop pretending I should have a baby here?"
I wanted my arms to stop aching for her! I wanted my empty, floppy tummy to stop reminding me that the baby I was carrying was missing! I wanted people to stop calling me asking where the baby was! People coming over to see her, and she wasn't there! I wanted those baby diapers and clothes to go away, and the empty car seat to disappear! "Don't you know she's not here?" I wanted to scream. "And she's never coming home..."
And then just as quickly, everyone forgot about her. Like she never existed at all. "Don't you people remember I was pregnant?" I want to plead. But they weren't there when I held the sweet little baby in my arms, with tears streaming down my face. She never existed at all to them. To them, I simply stopped being pregnant. It "didn't work" or something. And now they are asking without any emotion, almost a grin on their face, "So, when ya gonna try again?"
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