Teaspoons

This week, I am facing a first of my own. A miscarriage. It is an awkward sort of grief. No one knew -- not even my husband -- that I was pregnant. I was telling myself it was stress. Each new sign of change was just me internalizing my current level of stress...except it wasn't. I knew it and didn't want to know it.


How could I bring a little one into this? How could I tell my husband? Would it throw him over the edge?


After weeks of constant nausea and a headache that wouldn't quit, I finally prayed, "Father, is something wrong with this little one? The only other time I've had a dull, constant headache like this was when Bethany's time in-utero turned toxic (pre-eclampsia)." I had just accepted the truth, decided it was okay that I might never travel the world, that I would be a gray-haired mom with the one on the tale end, that I would have to start over with baby-proofing a home while prepping my oldest to graduate from college, that my birthson would be coming home to a very pregnant momma (that one actually brought me pleasure...I was planning how I could ask his mom to be in the delivery room. She's never seen a baby born.), and how I wouldn't say a word to my husband until he noticed my body change from flat stomached, to baby bumped.


And then...


The amniotic sac broke on Monday night.


The bleeding began on Tuesday morning.


The contractions came sharp and regular on Tuesday evening.


And there was no way I couldn't tell my family. There was no way I could do it alone without letting them know I needed quiet. I needed to breathe, to bleed, to focus, to let go.  I needed to cry.


I'm still crying.


Today is Thursday. The contractions have finally given way to a dull ache. I slept for the first time last night. I ate my first meal. The blood is still coming. I stood too long this morning trying to be mom without honoring the part of me that is still healing. I am weak and sore. My uterus is contracting back to it's sans infant size. I am sad. I am angry at myself for not acknowledging sooner and being gentle with me or seeking medical help to know where the anemia was coming from or why the headaches, etc. I've never not carried a baby to term before. Every surprise, unplanned gift has been a delight and a joy.


Now, I am mourning the loss of the little one I was scared to acknowledge, the one I never spoke to while it was with me. I don't expect others to understand. I'm still confused myself -- why this hurts so much physically and emotionally. This little one -- no bigger than a teaspoon -- is gone, but in my heart forever.