Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Because I can't...
Because I can't bring myself to wrap this up into a neat and eloquent post, I won't. Not yet. Instead, here are excerpts from emails between a close friend and I, sent over the past two days:

Monday - Nov 14 - 9:08 AM
From: Mella
To: M

...I'm going for my ultrasound today...Yay! Too early for the gender, but at least I'll get to see a little baby in there with a beating heart (hopefully!)...

Monday - Nov 14 - 12:03 PM
From: M
To: Mella

ooo! Good luck! Send a picture of the little one if you can! =)

Monday - Nov 14 - 5:01PM
From: Mella
To: M

Hi M...

We did get to see our little one - peacefully lying still, eyes closed, legs crossed, little arms and all. But no heartbeat. It was the worst experience of my life - seeing a little baby, just like how Alex looked at his first ultrasound - but being told that he's no longer alive.

Vinnie and I just started sobbing and hugging, right there in front of the technician. I felt almost worse for him - as we were looking at the baby, I could tell something was wrong, so I turned to Vinnie with a concerned look, but he just had a grin on his face and was staring at the little guy as though all was well. He was shocked...

There's no rhyme or reason for why something like this would happen at 10 weeks along - at 5 weeks (as I was with the first one) - it's probably a case of the embryo not properly implanting in the uterus...but at this point - it's hard to say why the heart stopped beating. My mom says that there's no answers...she said that some people theorize that viral infections can have devastating impacts on fetus's...and I did recently have a pretty bad virus. And that would explain why I still feel pregnant...if we only lost him a few days ago, the hormones haven't gone down enough to make me feel normal again.

So...we're just waiting for a call from the doctor to let us know when the operating room is open so that he can perform a D & C to clean out my uterus, since my body hasn't started cramping or spotting yet - and since the fetus is already so far along, I would probably need a D & C even if I passed most of it on my own.

I don't have the emotional energy to email the girls yet...probably in a couple of days after I have the procedure...but I wanted to let you know how things went.

Monday - Nov 14 - 10:52 PM
From: M
To: Mella

Oh Mella, I am so sorry. I don't even know what to say. I'm just sitting here crying. I can't understand it. I just can't believe it. I don't know what to say but I'm sorry. I'll be praying for you both- this was supposed to be such a happy day... If there is anything I can do, or if you just want to talk, I'm here. I love you so much.

Tuesday - Nov 15 - 8:36 AM
From: Mella
To: M

Oh, M...it's just terrible. I think I'm going through all of the stages of grief, rapid pace. I dreamt about losing the baby last night - that I miscarried it on my own, and it was awful. I tossed and turned all night and finally just gave up around 5:30 - but that was almost worse, because I was lying quietly just thinking about it. I wish I'd had some sort of warning - cramps, spotting, a gut feeling - anything...but this just came out of nowhere. The bloodwork was good, my size was good, I'm still feeling pregnant - and the little baby in there *looked* ok, he just looked like he was snoozing...until the technician fell completely silent.

It started out so well - she commented on my flat stomach and smiled while squirting on that cold jelly stuff - then she happily said "Oh! There he is!" when she put the sonogram thing on my abdomen, and we zoomed in on the little one - but within a few seconds, she fell completely silent. And I was worried almost instantly, because I didn't see the flickering light in his chest.

I keep picturing her taking the measurements from his little rump to his head, still trying to date the pregnancy, not entirely positive if she was seeing what she feared she was seeing...but when she asked "and you've had no cramps or spotting?" I knew what was coming. That's when I looked at Vinnie - but, M, he had the sweetest little smile on his face, just like he did when we saw our son for the first time - like love at first sight...he just squeezed my hand and said "baby!"

And then she said "I hate to tell you what I'm seeing..."

I'm sorry, M...I just can't stop replaying it in my mind. Whenever I close my eyes, I see the little body lying there, and I just can't believe that it's real. So, then, I turn to denial and I think "Well, maybe they just missed something...maybe he was so still because he was sleeping and maybe we just couldn't see, or the doppler couldn't hear the heartbeat...and I want to have them check one last time before "cleaning me out"...

But I know that it's unlikely, and that all that they'd be doing is billing me for an unnecessary ultrasound to confirm an already confirmed diagnosis - that I'm carrying an unviable pregnancy.

I'm taking the upcoming semester off - losing two babies so close together is a lot to process - I need a breather.

And on that note...I'm going to go hug my son...he's the only thing that can take my mind off of things. He actually had me giggling this morning...I can't thank God enough for giving me him first...I can't imagine what it would be like to have these two sad pregnancies without having a sweet baby to go home to.

...And that's all I've been able to write...



Blogger sheblogs said...


Sorry for such bad experience.

Try to be positive..."It can't rain forever".

Your son is beautiful..


Blogger LJ said...

Aw, sweetie. I'm so very, very sorry.
Take good care of yourself now - and your son and husband. Much love to you all, LJ.

Blogger Kenneth said...

"hugs" :)

hope that makes you feel better.
you've got a lot of spirit in your writing.

Blogger Claire said...

My sister had a similar experience except that she had carried the baby to full term before she lost him...

Grieving is a strange but valuable journey. May God send you joy. Nothing is wasted. All life is precious.

Blogger Teri said...

Mella honey, I am so sad for you. I feared the worst when we hadn't heard from you for so long. I know there's no comfort in words, so I'm just sending big love. xoxo

Blogger mreddie said...

I am so sorry to hear this report, I too had feared the worst and had checked your site every day for news. Both of my daughters had this horrible hurt happen to them. Each had it happen twice and my oldest was at ten weeks both times. My heart ached for them then and for you now. My prayer is that God will bring complete healing to you. ec

Blogger Mella said...

Thank you everyone - your thoughts and prayers have truly been felt.

I'm doing much better this morning. I woke up yesterday in denial, and went to bed in a state of peaceful acceptance. No more nightmares. What more can I do, but to accept that this happened and move on?

My final packet for school was due in the mail on Monday, the same day that it happened. And the reason I had disappeared was related to me trying to be disciplined about getting school-related writing done before writing here.

Monday was supposed to be a good day - I was going to send off that packet, and come back here to report on my writing and my ultrasound.

But...this happened, and as a result, the packet is still sitting on the table, incomplete.

Blogger Heather said...

I saw your comments on my blog and thought I would come see you. I am so sorry for your loss. I can even begin to imagine the pain you must be going through. Some of the hardest things to face in life are the heartaches without answers. I will be praying for you and your family. God be with you.

Blogger Chris said...

I have been sitting here for over an hour, staring at this empty comment box, trying to find an appropriate way, or the right words, to help ease your grief and pain.

The human language is woefully ill-equipped for such a task.

I will mourn your loss, for that is all I can do.

May you find some solace in the knowledge that Life can never be fully extinguished while Hope burns brightly.


Blogger Mella said...


Thank you. Thank you. I don't know what else to say.

Blogger Chris said...

Thanks are never necessary.

My own child died in my arms. We share a commonality of pain. What I have learned, though, is that death is an amazing catalyst for change. It humbles us. It makes us appreciate, more fully, those treasures we do have.


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