In the spring of 2006 we went on a vacation with my entire family to Florida. I told my husband while on our flight that I knew in my heart we would be blessed with a new addition to our family. From past experiences he has known that my gut is almost always right and was excited for our growing family.
We had a fantastic time in Florida. The girls enjoyed the rides, the water, and spending time with there grandparents, Auntie and Uncle and of course there cousin. It was a great 14 days for all.
When we arrived home, we immediately got involved with the baptism of Emma-James who was 3 months old when we returned. It was a wonderful afternoon. We released butterflies in Anabelle's honor. The weather was beautiful, the sky's a bright blue. Great friends and family joined us in celebrating Emma-James arrival and the memory of our daughter Anabelle. It was truly a blessing.
A few days after the chaos had ended. I took a test. I was elated to see that it was positive. That God had given us another blessing to celebrate. 2006 was beginning to be a fantastic year for us. After so much hurt and pain, it was really nice to have all the positive things finally happen in our lives. It was nice to see that 2006 was going to have a great start with a wonderful happy ending. I was due December 31st.
I wanted to tell Jason in a wonderful and romantic way. I went and purchased white, pink and blue balloons at the store and while everyone was sleeping, I blew up over 100 balloons (by mouth mind you) slipped a piece of paper in each balloon that said "Boy or Girl, December 31st 2006" and filled our bathroom full! I was so excited that I couldn't fall asleep the rest of the night. At 6:30am Jason's alarm went off. I could hear him get out of bed, walk down the stairs, and open the bathroom door. I sat there, wondering what his face looked like. Wondering if he figured out what was going on. Wondering if he was even awake enough to understand. I heard him puttering around the kitchen. My patience for him to walk upstairs was growing on me. Plus I really had to use the potty. Finally, after which seemed like an eternity, he came upstairs. Smiling ear to ear. He was excited and of course said "does this mean your pregnant" and I said yes. We went through the rest of the day walking on air.
The next few weeks went by without issue. I told my family. Called my doctor I had for Emma to schedule an early appt. with him. Only to find out he had left the practice. The other doctor refused to see me any earlier then 8 weeks. Even after telling him my past history and that I am to be seen right away, they wouldn't listen. I called up a good friend of mine in Providence, and they too couldn't help me. I felt trapped, worried and angry.
Mother's day was right around the corner. I was excited to spend the day with my "girls" and the new little one. We were planning on stopping in to see my husbands family, then drive to the Ocean for the rest of the day.
A few days before Mother's Day, I started spotting. I felt anxious and worried. I couldn't shake this feeling from me. I spend every moment looking up information on the computer. What to expect. What to look for. What to worry about. The bleeding slowed down. And about two days before Mother's Day had disappeared. I tried hard not to worry. But I did. Every moment I went to the bathroom, which was about every 20 minutes. I had to check. Had to see. What should I do. Should I call someone. Tell someone.
We decided to go out the day before Mother's day for a nice lunch. We knew Mother's Day would be packed everywhere, so we got dressed up, and took a few pictures of my and the girls outside in our backyard. Something I cherish always, as it was the last and only picture I have of being pregnant.
Mother's Day arrived. I woke up to a wonderful breakfast in bed complete with cards and flowers. I was excited to get my day started. I got up out of bed, started my trek to the shower and experienced the worse pain ever in my lower abdomen. I screamed for Jason to help me down the stairs and immediately went into the bathroom. I was bleeding very heavy and knew right away that something was not right. I was loosing our baby. This baby that we wanted so much. Another child gone from our hearts. I tried to be accepting and happy knowing our little one would be with the angels in heaven. Know that this little one would be welcomed with arms wide open by his or her big sister. Know that him or her would be greeted by his Grandma and God and Jesus and all the wonderful people in our lives that were no longer with us. He or she would be happy, and loved. But I couldn't, wouldn't, didn't want too.
I stayed at home for a good part of the afternoon. The bleeding had slowed down. Jason thought it would be good to try to get out of the house. Jason's family had called to ask why we hadn't made it to lunch. He tried very hard to make excuses without telling them the real reason. But my future SIL would not let it go. Finally I got on the phone and told her flat out what was happening. Her response was "you could have least showed up for a few minutes." I was a mess after that. I didn't want to show up anywhere. I didn't want to see faces, be happy. Greet anyone. I wanted to hide under my covers. Ask why? And never come out. I had to start making phone calls. Tell people I had just told a few weeks prior that we had lost our little one. I was devastated, angry and sad.
Jason was so wonderful. He tried really hard to cheer me up. He took the girls shopping and brought home a T.V. for our bedroom. He wanted me to be comfortable. I told him that it didn't change the fact of what was going on. He said he knew that, but felt helpless. My husband deals with sadness a different way then me. He takes apart things, builds things or tries to put things back together. The T.V. was just as much of a distraction for him, as it would be for me. After he got it set up, I fell asleep. Crying. Lonely. Heartbroken.
The next day I scheduled an appt. in Boston for an ultrasound and blood draw. They wanted to make sure that my numbers were dropping and that I was "miscarrying" properly. Really, those are the words your going to say to me. Properly? I just wanted to scream.
Things went well. The nurse was gracious and sweet. He was sorry to hear that this was my second loss. She tried to comfort me, but really didn't know the words to say. She was young, Maybe 21. She tired to "be in my shoes" so to speak, but couldn't. I give her credit though.
Days, weeks, months went by. Very little of my friends or family know what happened. My heart hurts that we didn't know if our little one was a little boy or little girl.
The hurt and sadness of loosing our little one will always be a part of me. Though my days are new spend knowing that Anabelle has a sibling in heaven with her. She isn't alone anymore. She now has a sibling to keep her company. I am comforted to know that they are together in Heaven. Singing songs, making friends, telling secrets to each other. Until the day that we all can be together again as a family, I know in my heart that she or he is exactly where they belong.
My "three" Angels