Remember...

Philippians 1:3

I thank my God every time I remember you.

What a totally precious piece of scripture that was shared with me this evening. I'm still quite sick and though I don't enjoy trying to beat down a 103 temp with medicine, it has given me a chance to think a bit. I have realized that I have been thinking more about our first losses, the first one in particular. Actually the word "loss" is kind of strange to me because that would indicate that I don't know where the baby went. I know where he/she is. For some reason, today I was vividly remembering our 12.5 week appointment.

We were chatting it up with Dr. B, talking about nursery colors, themes, etc. By the way, we were going to paint the nursery yellow and accent it with green, cream, and bumblebees. We talked about how the closet was organized and that we had found some great sales on gender neutral things. The appointment was just like any other early visit, pee in a cup, check blood pressure and listen to the heart beat. The only problem was that they couldn't pick it up with the Doppler that day. I was getting excited because I still didn't know the difference between my heartbeat and that of the baby - boy do I know now. But in my naivete, I couldn't fathom that something would or could possibly be wrong. When Dr. B had had enough trying, he said, "you know what? let's send you back for a quick ultrasound." We were beyond excited to get a sneak peek at our baby and he made sure to let us know that it would be too early to tell the gender but that we'd get a good look. We headed back to the ultrasound room and from that point on, it all starts to get foggy for me. We were so excited to see the baby and before we knew it, the screen was being turned away from us and Dr. B was very silent. Somewhere in all of that we were told that it looks like there could be a problem but that it was very likely that I just mis-calculated my dates. Not possible. After that there was an appointment with a ultrasound specialist at a different office and we had to take the results back to Dr. B. I knew that it wasn't right since there was a lot of talk about pointing out my ovaries, my bladder... why wasn't she pointing out our baby, the heart beat, the head, the little feet? The next thing I remember is sitting in our car and reaching for the clasp on the big manila envelope that held the scans and Jim just looking at me, putting my hand down and saying "don't..." We drove back over to Dr.B's office and sat amongst a handful of pregnant women and post menopausal women. Before long we were called back by our nurse, Ruth, who had a box of Kleenex in one hand, my file in her other hand and a big hug with the words "I'm so, so, sorry sweetie." And I guess that was that. The discussion that followed included our "options". It's very strange to be given options while at the time you feel like you have NO options. We were not rushed and did not make a decision that day. We came home and talked about it, the pros and cons of the two routes that we were offered. Ultimately, we all decided that a d&c was the way to go and the procedure was completed the following week. I had wanted it done earlier but because of an "important meeting" I was threatened with job loss. Jim and I have both since left that company. Best. Move. Ever! I didn't actually know the gestation of the baby until our consult appointment when I got pregnant with Eli. There in my file it stared back at me "fetal demise 10.5 weeks". I'm not sure I dealt with it all that well at the time. I spent a long time curled up on the couch and pretty much "stuffing" all the emotion. I suppose that's probably what I just wrote so much about it now.

I won't ever be able to look at another pregnancy with such pure joy and excitement as I did that first time and I'm very thankful that though I remember the yucky, I also remember the feeling of pure joy in planning for our first child. I'm thankful that I enjoyed that 12.5 weeks with reckless abandon and because of my God, I can be thankful for every memory.