Baby E.

It's March.
Six months ago I had your heartbeat keeping time with mine. Six months ago my heart broke again when that heartbeat stopped. I fold my hands upon my stomach and it hurts me that it isn't swollen with your life, that you aren't stretching and growing inside of me, that we're not picking names. It hurts me that I never saw you, that I never got to say goodbye.

I was naive to miscarriage. I felt I had done my time. Losing your oldest brother at 39 weeks was enough. Looking at him, holding him, kissing him goodbye. That should have been enough. But it wasn't.

I was naive then. My first pregnancy- two babies growing inside of me. They called them baby A and baby B. I remember wondering who they would be- dreaming of them- imagining our lives together- our lives as a family. But my dreams didn't come true. Baby A left us. Baby A left us, but Baby B stayed.

Fifteen months later Sweet C was born. And while I feared losing another baby, I didn't. And then Baby D came and my fears were a little less. And then there was you, Baby E.

Baby E.
Baby E who came the moment we tried. Baby E who would be the finale', the end. Four children at home. A spring babe- Due in March. How I loved you from that moment I knew you were coming.

But from the beginning it was different. I wasn't as sick with you as I was with the others. But I went in and saw your heartbeat- that beautiful lively spark that cemented in my mind that this was happening- this wasn't a dream and that everything was o.k.

But it was different. A week later, I started to spot with you and I hadn't with the others. But I went in and saw your heartbeat- that beautiful lively spark that cemented again in my mind that this was happening- this wasn't a dream and everything was o.k.

But it was different. Something was different. I still was spotting but once again I went in and saw your heartbeat- that beautiful spark that cemented again in my mind that this was happening- it wasn't a dream and everything was o.k.

But it was different. On that September day I began to hurt, I cramped and I did feel sick- and I hadn't with the others. Suddenly I was doubled over with pain and for hours I talked to you. I begged you to stay. I begged you to hold on. I begged you not to leave.

But there was so much blood. So much pain. So much worry. But I saw you. Saw your heartbeat. I closed my eyes and I saw you nestled so safe inside me. Safe from the trauma. I tried so hard to keep you safe!

The pain began to fade and I talked to you. I prayed that I would see you that next day. Again see your heartbeat- that beautiful spark that would cement again in my mind that this was happening- it wasn't a dream and everything was o.k.

Were you there?

And then we saw the screen . And that beautiful spark- was gone. You were gone. You left. Another baby. Gone.

And it hurt so much. It hurt when you left. It hurt me and it hurt daddy. It changed us again. Another baby. Another loss.

But you were different. We didn't see you. We didn't hold you. But we did love you.
We didn't kiss you and we didn't name you. But we did love you.
We did dream.

Others were different too. You were "just a miscarriage." Everyone has them. They are so common. After the surgery, I'd feel better.

But I didn't. And I wish they would have seen you through my eyes. That they would have seen you as a child that would come home. That would live with us. That we would hold you and love you.
I wish they would have seen that.
I wish they would have seen you.
I wish I would have seen you.

But they didn't. And I didn't.

And now it's March.
And you're still gone.
And I still wish you weren't.

I imagine you and our Baby A together. I think of him holding you and kissing you and telling you our story. Telling you about our love since you had such a short time to experience it. Such a short time.

I love you so much. You are part of us. Our baby E.

If you want to know more about the day we said goodbye, click here.