I made a mistake on taking a chance on a man who I thought could bring me happiness. He dove out of my life and I felt the signs of pregnancy. I was terrified, yet I felt a sense of completion. I’ve always wanted another child, but never in these conditions…again.
I knew that I would probably end up being a single mom again, but I knew my strength and devotion to my current son, I knew that I could handle it. I was disappointed in myself that I made another mistake with my life. However, I never wanted my child to be a “mistake”.
Initially, I was naive due to having an IUD, “I can’t get pregnant” I thought. However, my body started changing in familiar ways that I could recollect a few years prior. Was I really pregnant? I took a home pregnancy test just for the hell of it.
Faded second pink line.
The last time the second pink line showed up at all, I was pregnant. I knew this couldn’t be a mistake, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. So, I tried two days later – same results. I tried again a week later – same results…okay, maybe I am pregnant.
I still wanted to hold off with spilling the news, I knew it was too soon. I just tried to carry out my days nonchalantly even though I felt the sudden changes with my body. Sudden changes as in weight gain, increased appetite, sensitivity to smell, etc. I thought of many ways that the test still could be wrong, but I mainly thought about the results of how this would change things in our lives.
Then, there was that one Sunday, my son and I next to each other. I was on my phone, my son was playing, and with quiet in the background. My son randomly says, “Mommy, you have a baby in your belly”. I was shocked by his vague observation. He was smiling, however I was confused, trying to grasp this occurrence. How did he know? Is it that sixth sense that children have that helps them feel, sense or see things that we as adults don’t know is there? Then, he started explaining how he wanted a sibling. For the first time through this terrifying experience, I finally felt okay about it, because my son would approve and together we would get through it just like we did with everything else.
Then, two days later…I began to bleed. Oh, that must just be another pregnancy sign I thought, but then it got worse. I panicked. I grabbed a home pregnancy test…and
…one line….was my baby gone?…
I wanted to cry, but I had to push through the day. I had no choice, but to go to work and find time to cry in the bathroom instead. I finally confessed the news to the man of who would have been the father. He was emotional and had the same mixed feelings as I had over the situation.
So, I went to my Gynecologist to get answers. I sat in the lobby for 20 minutes, which felt like eternity. Finally got called to a room, I explained the situation to the doctor. She examined me and gave me an ultrasound, said that the IUD was moved and that indicates that pregnancy was trying to develop, but couldn’t see if there was still a baby. If I was pregnant, she claimed that it would be an Ectoptic pregnancy. She just needed me to do blood work, so she sent me back out to the lobby. I sat and sat. My thoughts ran wild. I wanted my baby to still be alive, but I had doubts. I was having rising anxiety just sitting there watching other moms with their babies-to-be in their tummies or newborns, while I had to grieve mine. I truly was not okay. I was going stir crazy in my seat. Please, get me out of here!!..Finally, I had got called back to get my blood drawn. The doctor visit was over, but the anguish was not. Next, we just anticipated on the blood results for the next day.
I let him know that it was still possible that I could have been still pregnant, and that he could still become a father. He told me that I needed to get rid of the baby regardless.
My initial thought: I was angry and extremely emotional…How dare him?! I will choose it’s life before mine! It is a child! This is what my body is made for, how dare him tell me that I can’t! This is my child…my child…
However, I understood the reasoning behind his vague command. The doctor explained that it would of been most likely an Ectopic pregnancy.
In a normal pregnancy, your ovary releases an egg into your fallopian tube. If the egg meets with a sperm, the fertilized egg moves into your uterus to attach to its lining and continues to grow for the next 9 months.
But in up to 1 of every 50 pregnancies, the fertilized egg stays in your fallopian tube. In that case, it’s called an ectopic pregnancy or a tubal pregnancy. In rare cases, the fertilized egg attaches to one of your ovaries, another organ in your abdomen, the cornua (or horn) of the uterus or even the cervix. In any case, instead of celebrating your pregnancy, you find your life is in danger. Ectopic pregnancies require emergency treatment.
Either scenario, I was losing. Either I had a miscarriage and lost my baby already or I would have to get an abortion. I couldn’t bare the thought of having to go through an abortion, but a friend of mine kept reassuring me that it wasn’t because I didn’t love my child or chose not to have it, it was for medical reasoning that death could become the result.
Next day – blood work results: Not pregnant
Then, came the pain. It was so painful; physically and emotionally. Every night for the next three nights, I got my son from school, made him dinner, got him straight with homework and then laid in bed until it was time to get him to bed. My son cared for me as he did random check ups and to see if I needed more blankets, regardless, he was selfless without question.
The first day out of the three was the hardest. The true pain was when you just know when it leaves your body. That’s the hardest part..is to see it, to know it and rid it so morbidly because it’s too small to consider a body to bury. When it released from me, colors started to fade, my body became weak and I began to wept.
All of this guilt…I failed as a parent to cave in for three days while my son picked up my sorrows. I failed as a woman to not bear my child that my body was meant to do. I failed as a person to lose my morals to one man, and karma sought me out to take my baby. It was a horrible lesson to learn. I lost my child, because it was a mistake from the beginning, for that I was ashamed and regretful.
It is my fault that my child never lived, that I never learned its gender, got to hold it, give it kisses, feed it a bottle, watch it grow, witness it’s beauty, watch it play with their big brother, or even receive a sonogram.
For that, I couldn’t talk about it. To even speak about it, I didn’t get the reactions I needed, “At least you’re not stuck in that situation.That would of been bad”. I didn’t need any more conviction, I was already feeling the anguish of my actions. I was aware of the outcomes of each perspective in this situation and what the current results meant for our future, but it didn’t take away that fact that I lost a child over it. I just couldn’t find the comfort that I needed. My friends tried their best to understand, but it was only time that could help this.
I had nothing to hold onto, nothing to cope with. I had no partner to lean on for the pain. I had no picture, not even a sonogram. I had no baby blanket or its first picture outfit. I had no physical memory to reflect on. Nothing at all…
So, I found ways to carry it with me. I bought a ring, but I feared that the wear and tear from work would make its appeal fade. So, I bought a necklace called “Mermaid tears”. It was perfect. I still wear it from time to time whenever my thoughts are strong about my angel. I still think about it everyday, but I can function in life now without that fresh wound. Even though the necklace and ring helped, I still felt like something was missing.
Talking to a friend, who is a therapist, she asked me to use my art as a way to cope. When she said that, I immediately knew what I was going to make. My best friend, who was once pregnant before her miscarriage used to call her tiny baby in her belly, “Button”. So, combining the idea with not having photos, I created a “My Missing Button” frame. I had bought a little frame, painted it, and designed the inside. I wanted a neutral color, so I picked a yellow button to represent my baby to place inside of the frame. Now, I had framed my baby memory. Placing it next to my bed stand, it helped me cope.
Once, I had lost my baby, it appeared to be an epidemic of women coming to me about theirs. I noticed a couple of things. For one, they coped two different ways. They either would talk about it as if they want to fully cope and hold onto the memory, or they would discuss it happening to me and then never speak of it again. Also, the biggest thing was that these women felt like they couldn’t talk about it.Why is miscarriage such a silent thing? It’s as though society has made people feel as though that if the baby is not born then it doesn’t count – it was never a life. If you can’t present it with a casket or you could never hold its body that it should never be mourned. I’m here to say, my body told me that I had a life in me and it told me when it was no more. To lose early in a pregnancy, does not make the pain hurt less. It does not excuse that it could have became a human life walking among us and becoming a beautiful piece of our lives that we could have held, loved and be proud of.
There is nothing for those that do want to speak about it, that wants to cope and wants to have a memory of it. With the My Missing Button frames, I hope that I can change that. I hope to create many for the many of women just like me. I have given one away for a friend of mine and it helped her cope.
So, through those button frames, my baby will not be a mistake and it will continue to live on…
My baby passed on October 27th-October is pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month