I want to thank you for your beautiful comments on my last post. I truly apologize for not responding to all of you. I’ve been having a really hard time going back to that post, and I just don’t think I can read all of your words again right now. Please just know that Catch and I both read every comment, and we are so grateful for your support.
I think I’ve been managing my feelings pretty well—especially considering the hormonal overload. I do have a couple of triggers that make everything worse if I think about them.
- Vanishing Twin. Words cannot describe how much I hate this terminology. It truly makes me sad and angry. Baby B is not a rabbit that some magician disappeared into a top hat. Baby B did not vanish. Baby B died. There is no nice way of saying it. One day, our baby had a beating heart, and the next day she didn’t. I saw our baby clear as day on the ultrasound, so don’t talk to me about vanishing anything. I am still carrying Baby B weeks after her death, and even if I wasn’t, you cannot tell me that ANY baby whose heartbeat you have seen and heard could ever just “vanish.” The medical community needs to give that one some thought.
- Most miscarriage results in ultimately experiencing a physical loss. Whether it’s natural, surgical, or induced with drugs, somehow, that baby is removed from your body and there is some finality to that. I know this is going to sound so crude, but it’s really upsetting me that I am carrying our dead baby with me everywhere I go—and have been for weeks. I can’t wrap my head around that. It’s surreal. My uterus is an embryo coffin. It’s like something you’d read in a disturbing collection of short stories. This is what nightmares are made of, and I am so, so ready to wake up.
If I try not to allow myself to visit either of these topics, I can almost pretend that everything is okay. The world does continue to turn, after all.
Speaking of the world turning, on Saturday morning we woke up in the most comfortable bed in the world at the Four Seasons. (Long story, but it was work related.) While we waited for room service to deliver breakfast (!), we spent a good bit of time cuddled up in that fluffy bed celebrating that Baby A has reached the 9 week mark and has officially graduated from embryo to fetus. Pretty fantastic if you ask me.
I am beyond lucky that my little silver lining is so freaking shiny.