I had an itty bitty heartbeat inside me, and now I don't. Abbie's little sibling (I always felt he was a boy, though we'll never really know) didn't make it. At only 7 weeks, he's gone. I think it sounds so strange, to say "I lost my baby". Though I feel the loss, the emptiness, the void, the blackness of it all, I can't bear to say "I lost my baby". I didn't lose him... he's gone. My baby is gone.
Not long ago I saw his beating heart in the monitor, and I heard it. It was fast, strong and undaunted, though they never gave it much of a probability of life. It sounded as though it was saying "Oh yeah? I'll show you". And I thought "Ah! He'll show them, he will!", while carrying a doubt in my heart. When I went to get the sonogram today, after bleeding, I just couldn't stop crying even before they told me that there was no heartbeat. I knew they were looking, and looking, looking for that rhythmic sound as if it were hidden somewhere in the never ending world of my short-lived pregnancy. But with every second that went by, I felt as if I were in the middle of a big, empty field when it snows: chillingly quiet... colorless... aseptic. I knew there was no life, because a few days ago my own heartbeat slowed down. And I knew.
Abbie doesn't understand why her 'mammy' cries so much today. So I want you to know, when you'll be able to understand: today I had to say goodbye to my other itty bitty one, and it's hard, it's hard. I had a dream I loved, a glimpse, and it's gone. And I thank God forever more for you.
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