Hello Sprinkle, and goodbye

It’s been 4 days since Monday the 15th, I’m off work for a week, and I haven’t left the house a lot except to get some sushi and run a couple of errands.

I haven’t talked to people much about ‘what happened’, because it’s hard to say it out loud without having some sort of breakdown. But I will try — because until I say it, it will always feel like a gaping wound that’s unable to heal properly. Somewhere in my mind there’s this vat of words just waiting to be poured out. And if I don’t say it or write it I’ll forget, and I don’t ever want to. So here goes.

I found out that we were pregnant very early on February 5th. Oh how I felt the excitement, slowly at first, and then throughout the day all at once! As much as I wanted to shout it out loud, Brunno and I didn’t talk about how we were going to break the news — together, and when? So I kept it to myself mostly, but not without telling Fernanda, Dianne and Nico. I came home to an ecstatic father-to-be who has already told the whole world!

I’ll always remember how I peed on that stick the first time and not knowing what the lines meant, how I peed on a second stick and confirmed with the packaging what my gut was telling me. How Brunno smiled when I asked him to call the family doctor to ask for a referral to an OB… man, that was a magical moment! I had no idea how that moment would feel like, to tell yourself you’re becoming a parent, to tell your spouse he was going to be a father! Indescribable. Certainly more joy and elation than I had ever anticipated!

We sat down and talked about diet, supplements, strollers, car seats, who we’ve told the news to in the last 9 hours, RESPs. I remember making lots of faces when I was told not to have coffee, bacon, sushi, raw eggs, basically anything raw and deep fried. How we were looking at baby apps and which ones to download, how we were just devouring all the information we could get our hands on. The excitement was so tangible you could touch the air and almost feel that happy spark. Magical.

We took almost daily pictures of my growing belly, measured it, took my weight daily, never mind that it was very small and about the size of a sprinkle… Sprinkle. I didn’t want to name the fetus as such, but Maram did, and it was about that size when we found out, and it stuck. But the days turned into weeks and pretty soon we were seeing small differences. Sprinkle was growing, and fast!

Over the weekend after finding out, we went to Babies R Us to take a look at strollers. Needless to say it was an overwhelming experience for all 3 of us — I think that was when it started to slowly sink in. Over the next few weeks we watched countless reviews on baby products… strollers, cribs, bassinets, smart baby gadgets… imagine a bluetooth sock that can tell you the baby’s oxygen levels, or a smart seat belt that warns you if your baby isn’t properly buckled in! We opened a registry, started talking about baby names, which of our surnames it will take.

I’m not much of a crier, but I started to cry over the smallest things. The most ridiculous being that moment when Brunno scared me from under the duvet… it was actually funny, but my reaction was something else hahaha I bawled (!!!) and couldn’t stop! I cried over not having bacon, over realizing that I really can’t have coffee despite having so much of it at home and being surrounded by it at work! I remember buying a bag of decaf beans and as I was driving home these weird tears fell, silently mourning the loss of my morning coffee. LOL what?

I started telling more people about my pregnancy. Basically everyone I told were elated and excited and (insert positive emotion here), which made me feel even more excited! My parents weren’t so thrilled, but I was prepared for this scenario anyway so I was okay with it. A workmate’s words stuck with me — that it was way too early to tell people, and how awkward it would be trying to take that announcement back if something were to happen, not that we want anything to happen but *just in case it did*, ya know?

We found out about these baby shops where you could buy secondhand baby stuff, this place that does ultrasounds and comes in cutely-named packages, so of course we booked an ultrasound appointment for somewhere around week 13 or 14 where the chances of hearing a heartbeat would be greater. A heartbeat! Can you imagine?

So there we were, excited to become parents, taking it week by week. Thinking how maybe nothing could go wrong… because why would anything go wrong?

And then I started spotting. It wasn’t a big deal — rather I didn’t want to make a fuss over it, because I read that it was normal and maybe it will go away…? Crossed all the fingers I could cross. I kept it to myself for a couple of days, wishing for it to go away. While it didn’t stop, it didn’t get worse either, and I’ve read that some pregnant people had spotted for a while and was still able to deliver the baby to term. So I was able to calm myself down.

But not really… I called the OB, had a couple of blood tests done, but wasn’t able to get any explanation as to what was happening or what to expect in the next couple days. I freaked out a bit and decided to buy a test kit just to check that I was still pregnant — the blue lines were still there, so no reason to panic. Yet.

Sunday night I had more bleeding, but by then it was already a week and was convincing myself that if I bleed more then we call the doctor, basically if it happens then it happens. Telling and convincing myself that we’ll handle things as they come. Was I scared? Hell yes! But as I learned over the last two years, there’s only so much that you can have control over, and my reaction to things that happen to and around me was what I can definitely control. So I tried not to panic, but that extra spot of blood was the last thought in my head as I went to sleep.

When I woke up early the next day, on that Monday morning, I was bleeding a bit more… oh the horror. The OB told me to wait for the hospital to call me for an emergency ultrasound. After that call however, I stared to bleed out more. One pad per hour, and it just wouldn’t stop. On and off cramping in my lower belly and shooting pain in my lower back for what seemed like hours at a time. Holding on to whatever my hands can squeeze, a hand, a pillow, the duvet. And then there was this excruciating pain beyond what I could have ever imagined… I remember clutching on to Brunno’s hand as the pain shot through me. I remember feeling that I passed something I’ve never felt and seen in all my years of menstruating… when I checked in the bathroom later on, I was pretty sure I was looking and holding at what could have been my baby. Did I take a picture? Yes I did. Was I in shock? I think so. I couldn’t stop bleeding and cramping. I knew what was happening, I’ve read all the articles I could muster myself to read, but the experiences are all different so at the same time I *didn’t know* what was happening. I could no longer wait for that ‘emergency’ ultrasound call – we left straight for the hospital.

Next thing I knew I was at the ER by myself — because COVID rules says you can’t have your loved ones by your side while you go through one of the worst moments of your life. I mean I get it, but how awful is that!!! 4 hours, 3 vials of blood, and two ultrasounds later, the OB on call came to confirm what I felt had already happened…

“Yes I can confirm. It was a miscarriage. I’m so sorry.”

I was pretty dazed, but I heard everything she said, followed her instructions on what to do next, took the paperwork and left the ER. Got into the car, went home, took my shoes and my mask off, went back into bed… and all of us just caved in. I cried and cried and cried in Brunno’s arms for what seemed like hours. And when I thought I was done, more tears started to fall. I was tired of crying, but there my tears were. Over and over, all evening long.

It felt so weird, walking away from the hospital but not carrying something else with you. Because isn’t that what pregnant people do? Go to the hospital, come out with a baby. Well I didn’t carry one with me when I left. Why was that? It felt so unfair.

I was told that it wasn’t my fault, that it was most likely due to a chromosomal abnormality that neither parent caused, isn’t genetic, just nature’s way of saying this pregnancy isn’t viable so we’re getting rid of it. Okay, but not really okay. I’m still not convinced that it wasn’t my fault, but after all the science I think maybe it really isn’t… Welp. Biology really sucks.

We were pregnant, and then we weren’t. 10 short but wonderful weeks. Cut abrutly short by God knows what.

I feel kinda empty now, a bit literally but also emotionally. I was ready and anxious to become a mom, knowing what to expect but not knowing what to do. I was excited to finish the first trimester, create a little announcement for the rest of my family and friends, actually have a bump, actually have that ultrasound where you can see the first black and white pictures of your uterus with your baby inside, actually wear maternity clothes (yeah I made a face with this one, as my shirts and work pants and jeans were slowly becoming uncomfortable to wear). Actually deliver the baby to term, give birth, have all those sleepless nights, do I breastfeed or do formula, how many diapers do I need for the first week… all of that stuff I was ready for, all of that stuff having to take a back seat for now.

I feel kinda robbed actually, and a bit angry. And — why me?? I knew the numbers and the statistics, but really? 1 in 4. Happens more commonly than you know. It sucks being part of that statistic, but why couldn’t I have been part of the 3 in 4 who have healthy pregnancies? Whyyyy…

So… there. Couple of hours writing haphazardly on the couch surrounded by pillows and blankets, at 3 in the morning. Writing my thoughts down instead of crying — both productive, both satisfying. Am I going to publish? Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see.

Packing this up for now. As with bad things that happen to your life, you acknowledge that it happened, take the lessons, say thank you (no matter how difficult), and try your damnedest to move on. Sprinkle, for the last 10 weeks you and I tried our best, but it wasn’t enough. And it’s okay, it’s not your fault, and neither is it mine. Sometimes things like this just happen, and it’s beyond our control. It’s okay. We’re okay. Maybe it’s not our time yet. But someday it will be.

RC