23 weeks ago was a sad day in our home. I had received several positive pregnancy tests (because 1 is never enough for me) and we were eagerly looking forward to August when we would welcome a new baby into our home. It was shortly before Christmas and things were busy and stressful as they usually are during the holiday season. Kai and I had decided to keep the baby news a secret, but had planned to tell our family on Christmas as a little Christmas surprise. We had been excitedly talking about names and whether we thought this baby would be a boy or girl. Early plans were beginning to take shape. The due date would be just around the time of our anniversary and our first summer baby!
I felt weak and ridiculous for crying, like I was being irrational for all of the reasons I had previously told myself. I wasn’t far enough along to feel the baby move. I hadn’t had the time to bond with this child, but in retrospect I think the bond between mother and child must be instantaneous. Imperceptibly, I think a change must happen for women when we see the positive test and realize that “I” has now become plural and a tiny life is taking root and growing inside. I ached for the loss of a child that would never be. I also wondered if something was wrong with me for losing this child. Had I done something wrong? For all of these things as well as feelings that I can’t adequately put into words, I cried. We faced the loss. Thankfully Kai was grieving as well and didn’t make me feel bad for my tears. He comforted and held me and we faced it together.