This Memorial Monday post is dedicated to our Gummy Bear. In some ways, it seems so very long ago that we lost our sweet baby. In other ways, it doesn't seem possible that two years have passed. So much has changed and yet my love for our precious angel remains the same. Gummy Bear, Mommy loves you very, very much.
It was December 8, 2006 and my eleven week OB appointment. I was giddy with the anticipation of seeing our baby as part of the routine visit. My husband came along to get another peek.
We were not strangers to this ultrasound business - this being our fourth look at our developing little one. After discussing my complicated pregnancy history and doing an internal exam, it was time for the show.
The ultrasound screen was fuzzy, complete with diagonal lines running through the black screen. We had been spoiled by the far more high-tech equipment at our RE's, so the first thought was slight annoyance that the picture wasn't going to be as clear. In fact, when the baby first came on the screen, it was such a faint image that I had to strain.
The doctor did the measurements and I felt my breath catch. They were off by almost two weeks. My husband didn't see the dismal numbers, so he didn't know why I started to cry.
But I saw those numbers and I saw the doctor's face. And what I didn't see was the very worst of all. I didn't see the flash of a beating heart.
Our sweet little Gummy Bear had no heartbeat.
My heart broke into a thousand pieces that day. I am still picking a few of them up. Time and Little Man have healed many of my wounds. But nothing can ever replace a lost child and completely take away the pain.
When people ask if Will is our first baby, I don't hesitate to answer yes, because to reply otherwise would just cause hurt and confusion. And he is our only living child, so it is not a lie. But deep in my heart, he is not our first. He is simply the first that we have gotten to hold in our arms as well as our hearts.
To be featured in upcoming Memorial Mondays, please contact me by clicking on my profile link and then by clicking on my e-mail link. You can either write your story yourself or provide me with the details and I will do it for you. You may include pictures, poetry, whatever feels right. This is your memorial for your loss.
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6 comments:
Katie,
Thank you for sharing this story, specifically the experience of finding out at the ultrasound. I can relate to that on such a personal level, and I'm sorry for your loss.
Thank you also for featuring my story last week. I was away from my computer, so I'm late commenting but I appreciate it so much. You are a blessing.
I am remembering Gummy Bear today
Thinking of you and your gummy bear today. Thank you for sharing your story.
Echoing what Stacey wrote . . . the u/s machine is how we learned that our 3rd m/c was going to occur. For months afterwards I would begin to shake and sob whenever I had to drive anywhere in the vicinity of that building. Over Thanksgiving I saw the u/s picture of my cousin's baby-to-be on 'fridge . . . I couldn't go near that 'fridge for the rest of the day.
I am deeply sorry for the losses of your other babies. Thank you for talking about it, and giving the rest of us a venue in which to do the same, no matter how recent nor long ago it may have been.
I have experienced this recently, as you know. Going to the ultrasound only to see no heartbeat. I'm so very sorry and I hope that each day and year brings more healing to your heart!
I agree one of the hardest questions to answer is "is this your first?" I always think of the one we lost when people ask me that. I too generally go with the simple Yes this is our first while in my heart I know there was another Baby V that would have just turned one a very short time ago.
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