Confirmation

Went back in today for the ultrasound this morning and we got the news we were dreading. Little one was the exact same size as the first day we saw it. And it was quiet. 

My poor Baby Mama and Baby Daddy were heartbroken. She'd told me they were prepared, but I don't think there is such a thing. 

I talked to the doc after they left about what to expect. It doesn't sound pretty, but she agrees that I'll be fine to wait until I get back from my trip next week to stop meds. The risks with miscarriage are greater than the slight risk of infection the transfer clinic alleged. 

She also asked if I wanted a collection kit for when I pass the baby. They can do testing to figure out what went wrong. I told them to give it to me, and I walked out of the office holding a sad little box. 

The IPs were torn about testing but they were dealing with a lot. So I'm going to do my best to collect what I can. If they want the answers at least I can give them the chance. I was never given the choice. My doctor destroyed all evidence including ultrasounds that my babies ever existed. I want them to at least have the choice. 

So now more waiting. Once I stop meds it will probably be a few days before I start to lose anything. Then after that we have to monitor my hcg levels to make sure they're going down. As long as they're steadily declining everything's fine. If they stall or I lose too much blood I could end up with a d&c. Been there don't that. Don't care to get the tshirt. 

After my levels go down, which could take several weeks to more than a month, I'll need to have a normal cycle. So it'll be a while before we transfer again. At least 3 months. 

As far as next steps I'm not really sure. I want Baby Mama and Baby Daddy to take time to grieve and heal. This was their child. This baby already had hopes and dreams invested in it, and it's appropriate for them to acknowledge their sadness over their loss. 

So while they decide what to do I'll just be there for support. I've never been in their exact shoes, but I have lost a baby. So I can at least be a shoulder. 

They could potentially do another retrieval on Baby Mama, but I'm not sure if they will. They've been searching for an egg donor, but so far no luck. I can't imagine how hard that decision would be. 

But whatever they decide I will be there for them. Because no matter how it happens, they will hold a baby in their arms. And Baby Mama will be its mother, and Baby Daddy will be its father. 

If this loss has taught me anything its that my love for my kids didn't come from a physical bond. I'm carrying this baby just like I carried my own. But I have no personal hopes and dreams pinned on him or her. I didn't dream about his nursery or think about naming her after my mom. I only hoped he or she would go home with those two sweet people in tears today. 

So I'm sad. I'm beyond sad. I'm devastated for my IPs. But it's not the same as when I lost mine. My own hopes of motherhood weren't resting on this. Hers were. 

So for now I will look hopefully forward to our next steps. When they are ready we will get back in the saddle.

Like I told Baby Mama today, they will have a baby. I didn't get to keep the first two that I loved. But I got to keep the next two. And not that it makes it easier. Not that I am glad I lost them. But had they stayed I would never have my Sunshine and Sweet Pea. After all I got pregnant with Sunshine on my due date with my twins. 

Her keeper will come. And when it does they better give us a pretty big birthing suite. Because there's not a room big enough to contain the love that will wash over that child the first time his mother and father hold him in their arms. 

It will happen.  This is just part of our journey. A really horrible, awful, unfair, bull shit part. But it's a part that only strengthens their love and appreciation for the baby they will one day take home and call their very own. 

They were inducted into an awful club today. A club no one wants to be in, but one that new members appreciate if for no other reason than someone understands. I've already leaned on my fellow sisters. Those who know the pain of loving a child you'll never hold. And I'm thankful for them. Bitterly thankful that we have others to help us weather this storm. 

But their rainbow is coming.