Tomorrow (Wednesday the 20th) will be the one year date of losing our second baby. Yesterday was my first day back at school, and rather than be the beginning of a new year, it was a reminder that last year I missed the first day back because I started to lose our baby that morning. I still remember hearing two different "congratulations" on the phone that morning - the first from the on-call doctor & the second from my principal. How stupid both men sounded to me because I knew I was losing another pregnancy. Same symptoms, same timeframe, same bleeding as the first. It was inevitable.
That second loss was just as difficult as the first but so different in so many ways. Our first pg was a blighted ovum, discovered at 8w3d. Our second pg began to end at 8w1d - only three days after we saw a heartbeat. The second m/c was a natural m/c which was completely devastating for me. It was still difficult emotionally, but it was so much harder on me physically because I had (well, demanded) a D&C with our first loss.
It's been 18 months since I got off the pill & so far the only thing I have to show for it is three angel babies, acne-riddled skin, a shitload of wasted hpts, about 15 extra pounds, hours of counseling, hair that is now short but finally growing back in, the loss of a dream x3, and a waiting & unfilled space in my heart.
I still miss our three babies . . . and I hope and pray we have one in the very near future. I won't even delve into the thoughts of that not ever happening. I won't. I can't.