I was terrified of the pain. What was it going to feel like? When we found out the baby was gone, so many people opened up to me about their own loss, invited me to talk about it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t really ask them what it felt like. “Bad period cramps, maybe.” Was the best I had to go off of but I wanted to know more. I needed to know more. No one could have those answers, I just had to wait. For three days I waited for it to start so it could end. Finally I decided I couldn’t wait anymore and that I had to get back to my normal life. I let it go, I had to. I didn’t walk away from the fear or the pain, but I stopped letting it control me. That night, of course, it started. It was just like labor with my daughter, felt exactly like her contractions, but this time I was alone. I didn’t have to be, but I needed to be. My husband is my partner in every way, when I was broken he helped me put myself back together and he is the biggest source of strength in my life. But this was harder for him than it was for me, and I couldn’t watch him go through it too. I didn’t want to cause him pain and I couldn’t worry about him at that point, I had a job to do.
At first, I decided I didn’t want to see it. I was so scared it would look like a baby, I was far enough along for that, but I wasn’t progressing unless I was in water and after 6 hours of honest 2-3 minutes apart contractions type of labor, I didn’t have the strength to continue without my “aquaderul”. As I filled up the tub for the third and final time I paced through very strong contractions and I knew it was close. Once I got into the water I had two or three more contraction and it was over. I didn’t have to see it, nature at least gave me that.
I wrapped it in tissue, something a dear friend suggested days prior in case I had changed my mind and I woke my husband. “I don’t know what to do with it. It’s over.” I repeated and repeated. I shook and I cried. I was so tired. I was so relieved. That man, he is my hero. After that, he did everything that needed to be done.
We laid it to rest and we grieved, and now we move on.
It’s not over for us. We’ll try again, there is a baby out there waiting for us, I know it. It wasn’t this baby, it wasn’t ours to keep. It’ll forever be a part of our story, but it’s not the final chapter.