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what could have been.
*tw: mentions of miscarriage; please be cautious if this is harmful to you.
I thought this would be the happiest month of my life.
Three weeks ago, I took a pregnancy test on a whim - maybe it was just mothers intuition, or maybe I was trying to ease my mind after my missed period. Ferg and I weren’t very careful . . . I knew there was a possibility due to our own stupidity, but I can’t say I was expecting a positive, either. I stared down at the test in my hands, two thin blue lies staring back, and suddenly, my world changed. Could we afford another baby? Would my body react well this soon after giving birth to Apollo? I mean . . . I was only four months postpartum . . . Sighing, I cleaned myself up, walking into the bedroom I shared with my husband. “Welp . . .,” I toss the test on his lap. “Guess we need a bigger place.”
I’ll never forget the excitement on his face when he saw the result, or how he got off the bed to hug me, his hands falling to my belly immediately.
Two weeks ago, I had my first doctor's appointment to confirm the pregnancy. “You’re about three weeks,” my OBGYN, Dr. Montgomery, said as she finished up her exam. “It’s still early, but congratulations Mom and Dad.”
Ferg and I spent the next week discussing our future: where we wanted to go from here, if we wanted to keep the baby, if we should move out of the city and go upstate where everything was less chaotic. I could tell he was excited, that this was what he wanted for us. And I was excited, too. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something just wasn’t right . . .
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I stared down at the blood in my underwear, and suddenly all my fears were real.
I didn’t know how to react, really. I was too shocked, but not shocked enough to cry. It was like my world, the one I envisioned living in, had come crumbling down around me. I couldn’t peel my eyes away, but staring made it worse. It made it real.
A knock at the door startled me, and I can feel myself jump, voice caught in my throat. “I’ll be right out!” What was I going to tell my husband? He was so happy . . . I can’t do this to him. I can’t break his heart like this.
“Len, you’ve been in there for a while . . . I’m coming in,” Ferg’s voice boomed through the door, and I had no time to protest before he pushed his way into the room, my legs closing tight in an attempt to hide the evidence. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling beside me on the toilet.
I felt vulnerable sitting here with him. Almost too vulnerable. What was I supposed to tell him?
“Is… is that blood?” He asks, and it’s only then I notice his gaze is shifted to between my thighs, smeared redness covering my pale skin.
F***, I thought to myself, gaze shifting from my legs to his face. It was only when I saw the horror in his eyes - the hurt in his face - that I started crying. “I’m so sorry. . . I - I thought something was wrong and I . . .” Tears cloud my vision, but I feel his arms wrap around me, delicately - as if he’s trying to not hurt me. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry . . .”
I thought this would be the happiest month of my life. I thought I would be celebrating with my friends and family when I told them the news of a new baby. I thought I would be getting ready to tell Lilah she’d be a big sister again. I thought . . .
Instead, I’ve added another reason to grieve.
I thought this would be the happiest month of my life, and yet, in three short weeks, it turned out to be my worst.
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