Where have I been?

Pregnant. Pregnant and very, very, very sick.

But my story doesn't stop there. No, it never is that easy. My stories always have some crazy curveballs that knock me right off my feet. Especially in the baby department.

From the second I saw those two pretty lines I was nervous. "What would it be this time around?" I wondered on an almost daily basis. T had brain trauma. Evie a heart defect. What health condition would this child bring to the table?

I wanted to believe those positive people that told me things like "third times a charm" and "next time it'll be so easy," but I just couldn't see myself blissfully taking a healthy child home from the hospital.

So when my ultrasound at 8 weeks was irregular, and when my Level 2 ultrasound a few days later confirmed the diagnosis, I wasn't all that shocked. This sweet child was diagnosed with ectopia cordis, an extremely rare condition where the heart is growing outside of the body. The prognosis is grim--most babies don't make it to full-term and if they are delivered, there is little hope of survival. We painfully started to plan for another trip into the heart world.

The last 5 weeks have been long and excruciating. My physical ills were matched in intensity only by the emotional marathon running in my mind and heart. I threw up all day and had nightmares all night. I have lived horizontally on my couch, sharing saltines with two innocent little boys and feeling guilty all the while--guilty for laying on the couch, guilty for producing sick babies, guilty for not doing the dishes, guilty for having yet another pity party. The list could go on forever. I would fear everyday that I had lost the baby, and twice those fears led me to the drs. office where an ultrasound was performed and a strong heartbeat was witnessed. When I was inching towards week 12 I finally allowed myself to take a breath and I was finally coming to grips with our new reality. I could do this, I would do this, I had no choice but to do this.

And then last week I had a day where I only threw up once and had the energy to take a shower. "You're almost 12 weeks," I reminded myself as I started to panic. "Normal people get better after the first trimester...there's light at the end of the tunnel." But that darn feeling wouldn't leave me.

At my regular OB appointment on Monday I told the doctor that I was more afraid I had miscarried than I was of having another heart baby. And as she put the doppler on my stomach and we heard the ugliest silence my ears have ever witnessed she said, "You sure know your body, don't you." The Level 2 confirmed it and I left the office in tears. 13 weeks pregnant and I had miscarried.

You would think that knowing you are going to have a terminally ill baby would make miscarriage easier, but I'm afraid that's not the case. Instead, I feel like my heart and brain are playing ping-pong with my emotions, and during each play I feel hurt, sad, relieved, guilty, hopeless, robbed and mad. And not just about the miscarriage, but about my seemingly inability to have a normal, beautiful, joyous, happy pregnancy and delivery. I'm still trying to work it all out, and I assume I will be for a while.

I sobbed my way through a D and C. Bless the hearts of the doctors and nurses caring for me! The second I had medicine in my body the floodgates opened and my true emotion betrayed my "I'm fine, I can't change it, it'll be ok" attitude. I would make a horribly soppy drunk! I remember telling the nurses, "I'm just so sad. I worked so hard for 13 whole weeks to keep that baby healthy. And now it's gone." I hurt even typing those words. I hurt for the girl that said them. She tries to act strong, and darn it she is strong, but in that Operating Room with a little help from an IV she was truly mourning.

And now, life needs to get back to normal. But normal doesn't ever quite feel normal after life changes. So I'm inviting writing back into my life, which is a normal I've missed these past 5 weeks. That's a start. And hopefully when I release some of these emotions through my fingertips I will feel a little more like me again.