Timeline To A Broken Heart

Two weeks ago Warren & I were so looking forward to today. Today was going to be the day of our very first ultrasound, where we would see our little Paris Baby for the first time. We'd see a little heart pounding away, and we'd squeeze each other's hand and burst inside with joy. I would dream about telling everyone at work, and I couldn't wait to announce it on this Blog. I can't count how many times I created our 'expecting a baby' ticker, just so that I could look at the happy little cartoon baby smiling happily at the 8/9/10/11 weeks mark. We were so close to 12 weeks, and I just wanted it to be here.

Then Sunday came, June 22nd, and I started bleeding.

This was followed by a trip to emergency, 2 days of rest, positive encouragement from friends & family, an ultrasound, an OB appointment, blood tests, and, ultimately, the devastating news that Paris Baby had stopped growing around the 7 week mark. That moment will stick with me forever.

This news was followed by the most devastating and hurt-filled days of our lives, including painful & exhausting phone calls to our parents.

Since then, my days have been filled with so many experiences that I never ever expected I would have to deal with.

I honestly just don't have the energy to describe these experiences right now, probably because they are still so raw, and probably because I know they are not necessarily over. Maybe it will turn out that I never want to talk about them on my blog. Time will tell.

There is one, very, very painful thing I am mulling over in my mind though, that involves this blog.

During my pregnancy, like any normal pregnant blogger, I was writing posts about my experience of being pregnant for the first time. I wrote about the moment when we found out we were pregnant. I wrote letters to the tiny baby inside me. I described the moments when we told our families and friends. I wrote about my fears and feelings at the time. All of these experiences and posts hold such an important place in my heart, but at the same time they magnify the deep hole that has been left behind.

When I first asked Warren what he thought I should do with the posts, his first reaction was that I should delete them. But I can't do that. I explained to him that this was our first pregnancy. That all those experiences and feelings that came with a first pregnancy will never be replicated. Ever. That experience was real, and just because we didn't end up with a baby doesn't mean we should erase them.

Because even now, I look back at what amazing moments we had - all of them - even the ones I didn't post about. Like the time we went stroller shopping and Warren was asking all the questions and doing the test-drives because he was the one who had done all the stroller research. Or the time we were in the kitchen and Warren was washing dishes while I read baby-raising articles out loud from the kitchen table, and we would discuss them afterwards and talk about how helpful they were and how we couldn't wait to put some of the ideas into practice. Or the time I was downstairs watching 'Silence of the Lambs' and Warren came down and said 'Hey, do you think you should be doing that? You might be scaring the baby'.

So, for me, the only options are a) keep them as drafts, or b) post them.

I'm leaning towards option b, however I worry that it will come across as extremely morbid and creepy. But I feel like I'd be doing our lost baby a disservice by ignoring the short-term happiness and closeness it brought us. Because we truly loved this baby.