I found out that I was pregnant about two weeks ago. It was a shock, but I was incredibly happy.
I was very sick almost immediately, but was always reassured by it in that I knew the pregnancy was progressing. Last Monday the morning sickness stopped. Since every pregnancy is different, I tried to not get too hung up over it, but the next day other symptoms started to develop. Everything was still in the category of "normal" but still, I had such a sinking feeling that something was very wrong. It was. By the next day it was quite obvious. Unfortunately, by this point, I was already visiting family in another state. I couldn't safely drive- especially with both babies, so Matt met my family half way (after clearing it with my OB) so I could come home.
We lost the baby that night, but, thank God, long after we were home and the other children tucked in bed.
It is amazing how devastated one can feel after such a short pregnancy. I always knew that this could happen, as it did before, but still I didn't expect it. For some reason, I was so certain that everything would end up fine. This isn't the place to convey the complexity of emotions (strengthened by pregnancy hormones that don't know what to do with themselves) so I won't write much more than that. It has been extremely hard, but everyone around me has been incredibly supportive.
We buried the baby yesterday at the Monastery cemetery.
I made this tiny blanket for the baby to be buried with. It felt like the only labor of love that I would ever be able to do for the child.