the loss of "Baby A"

Samantha, owner of Mama Notes, was kind enough to post a blog for all who have lost a baby. It is a subject that is near to my heart because I did.



I lost my baby at 14 weeks gestation, April 1, 2006. No matter what the circumstances are when a mother loses a baby, it is horrific pain. For me it was compounded with the fact that I was carrying twins.

The chance of twins under natural conception is incredibly low (1-2% chance) so when I found out I was carrying two, well, I can't describe my joy. For 14 weeks each of my babies grew at the same healthy rate, each week lowering the chance of "vanishing twin". After we passed 12 weeks I was (foolishly) relieved.

I had previously told our ultrasound tech that she had the most amazing job in the world. Every day she gets to share this amazing joy with mommies & daddies! I could tell by the way she did her job she agreed with me.

The details of April 1, 2006 will never leave me. It was an ultrasound we were sharing with "Daddy's" mom. I had been going for weekly ultrasounds because early on there was spotting but this had been resolved for some time. Our ultrasound tech was excited right along with us since we were sharing this joy with someone else now. And then the exam began. It wasn't more than 5 seconds and she looked at me and then to Grandma and asked her to leave the room.

I don't know how much time went by while she was telling me "Baby A" no longer had a heartbeat. I am not even sure that she said anything else. She left us alone but it wasn't until later that it hit me. We then saw the doctor but all I remember of that visit was being told my body would simply absorb this baby. I was told that it was unusual that I would lose one since neither seemed to be dominant but of course it happens. 

After getting home I called the doctor's office and left a message for the tech. I wanted her to not carry the sadness with her through the day. 

Each week after we would go for ultrasounds and watch as "Baby B" grew and "Baby A" stayed the same. I had the tech continue to give me measurements for "Baby A" because just as I watched him grow inside of me, I needed to watch him absorb into my body. Only that never happened.

Week after week we could see him there, not changing. We found out that "Baby B" was a girl who was growing very well but always respected "Baby A's" space in there. She was never seen kicking or crowding him and she stayed low in my belly allowing him to keep his position on top. I was grateful for all of this. The thought of him just being absorbed into my body was sad. 

Until.

I was 8 months along and "Baby A" was still measurable. I was told I would be delivering him.

And then I was a new kind of sad. I would be delivering a dead baby. 

And I did. And he was still several inches and certainly able to be recognized as my baby. He hadn't even slightly been absorbed. Daddy, who had just helped deliver Miss Thang, watched me deliver "Baby A". And as prepared as he thought he was going to be for that moment, he could never have prepared for what he felt.

It is heavier on my heart than anything I have ever endured and I hope by the time my surviving daughter is old enough to understand that she lived but her brother did not, that I will find a way to show her that God's plan is above what we can understand. 

I'm still sad.