When being right is the worst thing ever

I've been trying to process how to even write this.

Attempting to collect my feelings and thoughts and emotions into a coherent paragraph.

Tuesday, we had our follow up sonogram after last Thursday's sonogram. Last week, we were told that there had been no progress since the previous week. Basically, the sonogram was looking about the same, where there should have been growth.

On the bright side there were only five days between our appointments instead of the full seven. It felt like several long days of being in limbo. Not knowing the outcome. Not knowing what lay ahead. Only knowing that it could either be really good, or really bad.

We went in for our appointment and our RE did the ultrasound herself. And in just a few minutes, our futures were permanently altered. Decided. Changed. And not in the result that we were so fervently praying for.

I'm going to have a miscarriage.

Those words just feel ominous and haunting.

We opted to let things progress naturally, and then next week if nothing has happened, we'll talk about medication or a procedure.

I guess I feel like I was slightly prepared for this prognosis because of last week's appointment. But I don't think that you're ever fully prepared to know that the life that was once inside you is no longer.  There's a much more crass way I could put that, but I won't.

It's so crazy how you can go from pure, amazing, overwhelming joy, to utter, complete devastation...in a matter of weeks, a matter of minutes, a matter of seconds. The little world I had cautiously constructed, from baby blogs and registry lists, pregnancy apps and countdown calendars...shattered, obliterated, all came crashing down.

Perhaps the hardest part for me has not been accepting the facts. The hardest part has been the idea of having to tell family of what happened. We didn't tell a lot of people that we were expecting. We only told our immediate family. But still, having to tell them that our exciting news turned to tragedy just breaks my heart into a million pieces.

Maybe it's the disappointment? Maybe I feel like I'm disappointing them? I'm mad and sad and disappointed in myself. I feel like I should blame myself. I know that I shouldn't. I know the facts. I know that about 20-25% of pregnancies end in miscarriages - with most of them happening before the parents realize that they were even pregnant.

The thing that I didn't expect throughout all of this was the immediate bond I felt with the little life that was developing inside of me. Previous to my own personal experience, I didn't really understand why or how a miscarriage under 12 weeks was a big deal. I know how insensitive that sounds. But I didn't get it.

Now I get it. It was like the moment that we saw that pregnancy test, that we heard our beta numbers, that we were "for real" pregnant....that I was forever bonded with the little nugget. That little life was real.

I have such an appreciation for what a miracle life is.

So many people take it for granted. Dumb teenagers get knocked up "by accident". Irresponsible one-night stands result in two pink lines. Unplanned pregnancies. Surprise babies.

I feel like when you are in the trenches of infertility, you learn to appreciate that making a baby is a freakin' miracle. It's not an accident. It takes work. Sometimes it takes tests, medications, procedures, and lots of prayers.

Honestly, I was so excited about our positive pregnancy test. But part of me felt slightly guilty that we got pregnant naturally when so many others have such a hard time. My fears got me too. I was afraid of having a miscarriage, of something going wrong, of it all not being real.

But now it's just too real.

And since I haven't physically miscarried yet, I just feel like I'm in between again. Not pregnant, but not empty...if that makes sense. I understand better why some women opt for medication and/or the procedure right away.

I have no idea how long this grief is going to last. I have no idea when we will get pregnant again. But I have faith that there is a plan for us, that we're ultimately not in control, and we just have to trust that it'll happen in the right time. That's the last thing that I want to hear, but I know that it's the thing that I need to hear.

Have you ever been through this?