I follow Humans of New York’s (HONY) Facebook page and came across a post where a lady shared about losing a baby during pregnancy. It reminded me of the time we lost 2 babies via miscarriages. I have never written nor shared about it publicly so this is the first time I am mentioning it. Like infertility, miscarriages are such a taboo topic in our culture. It is all hush-hush and no one ever talks about it. The Chinese believe that one should never announce pregnancy until it is “stable” after the first trimester. I have since learnt that babies can be lost at any point.

I kept a locked blog during our trying-to-conceive journey as it was cathartic for me to put my thoughts into words. I wrote about my fears, my hopes, my dreams. And when I fell pregnant, I wrote about every little thing I experienced, including the many weird dreams. We did not dare to share the good news until I was entering the 3rd trimester. I was too nervous and was afraid to “jinx” it.

Coming across the post on HONY made me go into my locked blog again to read about our journey. That journey. And here, I want to share with you a piece I wrote after we found out that we have lost our baby at 8 weeks. While reproducing this entry, it brought tears to my eyes and a dull ache in my heart. Again. With time, the heart has healed but the memory never really goes away.

I hope that by sharing it here, it will provide some comfort to someone out there who has had the same experience because the more we talk about it, the less of a taboo subject it becomes. Also, I hope you know that you are not alone.

Bean No More

Today is the first of December. The last month of the year. The month of festivities and celebration as we celebrate Christmas and usher in the New Year. I was looking forward to Christmas this year and 2012 was going to bring with it so many new hopes and dreams.

But it was not to be.

Yesterday, I found out at Dr Y’s that the bean, our baby, no longer has a heartbeat. It stopped growing at 8 weeks. Instead of hearing its thumping heartbeat, the entire room was filled with deathly silence and a straight flat line.

Dr Y sat me down and told me a string of information. Something about chromosones and genetics. Something about how it’s nature’s way. I left the clinic with tears threatening to fall but I managed to hold it in. Was this really happening?

I called the husband.

The reality was sinking in. The tears fell hard and fast. I was barely coherently but said enough for his world to come crashing down together with mine. My worst nightmare, our worst nightmare, has come true.

We managed to make our way home and sat together in the bedroom, paralysed by the news.

Was this really happening?
Again?
For the second fucking time?

I cried. The husband cried.

I have, in the entire time that I have known him, never seen him cry so hard. He was in pure anguish and pain. I wish I could make him feel better. But I didn’t know what to say. What else was there left to say? Throughout the long journey, we have never cried this hard. Crying for the loss of hope, of dreams, of what-could-have-been, of all that we have been through. Crying for the unfairness of it all. Why us? Why is it always us? What have we not done right? What did we not do? What did we do to deserve this? Why is this happening again for the second time?

Crying for the fucking fact that after coming so damn far, we are now back at the starting point.

It was also the first time that I heard him tell me that he was delirious with joy when he first heard the news and wanted to shout it to the world. But instead, he didn’t dare to tell anyone except for one friend. He also told me that he did not ‘dare’ to be too happy in front of me in case it gave me pressure.

My heart broke into a million pieces.

All I want to do now is to stay in bed and not face the world. Not that I’m in any state to face the world anyway. I haven’t cried this much and this hard in a long time. Remember the scene in Sex & The City the movie where Carrie Bradshaw got dumped on her wedding day and she spent much of her time in bed at the Mexican resort, refusing to eat or drink?

That is me today.

It is the first of December. I woke up and cried again.

And on the third of December, we head back to the clinic to do another scan, just to make doubly sure of the situation. What happens after will be the D&C procedure which will take all of 15 minutes. Isn’t it interesting how forming life takes forever while snuffing it out takes a mere 15 minutes?

And the topping on the already wretched situation? The husband’s birthday falls on the third of December.

Tell me our life doesn’t officially suck.

 

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