My Flower Never Bloomed

Feelings of joy, uncertainty, fear all come to mind when you see two pink lines. Unless you’ve felt it, it’s hard to describe.

I shook my head.

Ok, let’s do this!

This was baby number two for us. J, born 1 ½ years ago, is the light of our life and adding an addition was always part of the plan.

I did all the normal things a mom-to-be did. I ate right, took a multi-vitamin, exercised, hell, I even journaled! Like my pregnancy with J, I never got excited for fear of a loss. Miscarriage. The word stained my mind like a nasty hidden secret you never wanted to get out. One in four pregnancies end in a miscarriage I read somewhere. I thought of three of my friends who were pregnant and didn’t suffer a miscarriage.

Could it be me this time?

I have always been an optimistic person, so I shut the idea out. I told myself that I would enjoy this pregnancy and not live in fear, like I did with J. Pregnancy is far from easy, but damn it I was going to enjoy this one!

I went in for my first visit, I knew what to expect so I felt at ease. Positive pregnancy test at the office.

So far so good.

They took bloodwork and asked if I had any questions. I had none. I left the office bright as the sun, filled with beams of hope. I was going to enjoy this one.

I went back in a few days for a repeat blood test, things were looking fine. I ordered a “Big Brother” t-shirt for J. I was so excited for him to put it on!

I went about my routine as usual that week. Thinking about the months ahead and how we were going to bring J to a family dinner, wearing his new t-shirt to share the news. At the end of the week, while I was working out, something felt funny. Afterwards is when I noticed the pink. A sight I never wanted to see. I immediately called my doctor. They assured me it was probably nothing but wanted me to come in for a bloodwork just to check it out.

Things got worse over the weekend. Mother’s Day weekend. How ironic. My husband had gotten me dark chocolates and marigold flowers to plant outside, something he does every Mother’s Day since we had J.

By Sunday I knew that I was having a miscarriage. Pink turned to red and that nagging pain turned to stabbing.

Before my bloodwork came back on Monday, I already knew what the numbers confirmed. I texted my husband and told him. I said I just wanted to be alone. My worse fear came true. I needed time to process this.

Why me? What did I do?

In reality I knew there was nothing I could have done differently. I didn’t want to tell anybody. But a few days passed, and I was beginning to except the loss. Still questioning why. Looking to message boards for comfort and answers.

One of the hardest things I had to do was package up J’s “Big Brother” t-shirt and send it back. I wouldn’t be needing it soon and the thought of keeping it just didn’t feel right. How could I use it for another baby?

We plan to try again soon. I know this will always be on my mind. Will I have another miscarriage? How am I going to enjoy this pregnancy?

I still think about the baby and what they might have been. I’m reminded when I look out in my garden to the marigold flowers. There is one flower that never bloomed.

My flower never bloomed.