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Darkness where there should be a light

As Les Mis song says, 'There's a grief that can't be spoken.There's a pain goes on and on."
On June 7th around 10pm I began bleeding again. Per the doctor's instructions from last time I headed to the hospital ER again so they could watch my vitals and check on the baby.
Once again I'm left alone but at least this time I have Facebook messenger on my phone and I spend the hours wait chatting on messenger with my husband and 2 dear friends.
I finally have all the tests and the doctor comes in with the news, "It is that hematoma again. The ultrasound on the baby looks perfect. Exactly what a 9 week fetus should be. Picture perfect. Heart beating nicely too. Nothing wrong. Go home. Your baby is still ok. It's just first trimester bleeding."
I left that appointment so relieved and looked forward to my first scheduled ultrasound on Wed June 10 with the fetal maternity specialist.
Once again I was not allowed any company so my husband decided to stay at the office working and I would Facebook video call him when they did the ultrasound.
I now change my mind from before in regards to
pandemic protocols and no company to appointments. It is utterly cruel to make someone attend those ultrasounds alone especially since there's no guarantee it will be a good appointment.
I remember walking in the appointment oblivious to the pain I would soon experience. I joked with the technician about my full bladder and giggled at the cold touch of the ultrasound probe and watched in awe at the scren above me. I strained to see that sweet little blur and that white flickering light.
I suspected something was wrong when she asked me to go urinate so she could get a better look.
I further suspected something was wrong when I saw the doctor in the technician's seat.
I thought it was anxiety talking and put thoughts of bad news aside.
The ultrasound took entirely too little time. I saw my little baby but where was that flickering light?
Dread entered me as i saw her flip to the sonar for detecting fetal heartbeat.
"That's odd. The book i read said they don't do that until 12 weeks because it can harm the baby."
I've seen ultrasounds before when my friend Mel was pregnant. The screen is not supposed to be black and there is not supposed to be silence.
The doctor breaks pandemic protocol and after she shuts off the screens takes my hand.
"Wait," I begin, "Why can't I look at my baby more?"
The doctor looks at me, her eyes hold a deep sadness and some tears.
"No...," I think.
She says my name and then says the sentence that still haunts me to this day.
"I have news. I'm so sorry. There's no heartbeat ."
I never knew three words could break me so utterly. I begin to wail, this time not in relief as I had almost 2 weeks ago but rather in sheer pain and grief.
There's no heartbeat.
My little song, my sweet melody was gone.
The rest of the appointment is a blur. Measurements show baby was exactly 9 weeks old.
We decided to call my husband in the doctor's office in case he had questions. When I call him I hear the panic in his voice before I even utter the news, "What took you so long? Is everything alright?"
"Mon amour, cheri, handsome... I'm so sorry... The baby is gone.... There was no heartbeat."
We all discuss plans of what happens next, surgery unfortunately because of my heart i cannot have the less invasive ways to get the baby out.
I leave the hospital room and fall to the floor several times weeping while expentant mothers sitting in chairs watch me going by. They clutch their bellies and a few of them begin to cry as I walk by, they know what has happened. It is a funeral procession of one and the expectant mothers in their chairs act as my dead baby's honarary guard as I walk by stumbling with grief from time to time.

Death has never touched me so closely before.
I spend the rest of the day with my best friend and my husband. We all grieve together the loss of our dream, out little song.
As Sinatra once sang, "The music has ended, but the melody lingers on."

Little flickering light

Being pregnant shouldn't be mysterious but apparently there are things that people never talk about which you find out as you stumble along the pregnancy journey. One of those things is first trimester bleeding.
The blood can come as light tiny red, pink, or brown spots or it can come as it did for me in large gushes of bright red blood that go on for hours. In the early hours of the evening of May 30th, at seven and half weeks pregnant this blood had me rushing to the emergency room at our local hospital. Thoughts of miscarrying began swimming in my head and I braced myself for the worst as I endured a barrage of tests and sat alone in the waiting room.
Yes you read that correctly, alone. Because of covid pandemic procedures I was not allowed any company. For 12 hours I sat alone while my husband sat alone in our car outside, both of us fearing the worst. We could see each other through the windows of the ER and desperately wanted to hold one another as more nurses and doctors all gave me the news I was most likely miscarrying.
About 10 hours in my wait a doctor came in to perform an exam and tell me some good news. "I'm confused," she said concerned, "You're bleeding a lot but your cervix is fine from what I can tell and your bloodwork came back wonderful. Your hgc levels are sky high, right where they should be for a healthy pregnancy but you're bleeding so much." She proceeded to tell me I was most likely either a threatened miscarriage or i simply had first trimester bleeding. Either way, I needed an ultrasound and that would determine if my baby and I were ok.
I love playing 'stump the doctors'... Not!
I hoped that they would make an exception for the ultrasound and let me bring my husband inside but once again I was told he was not permitted. Once again we were separated and would need to endure the good or bad news separated.
No room for compassion during an pandemic, I suppose. I understand and support why, it doesn't mean that it is necessarily right.
30 minutes go by and then the ultrasound technician looks at me. I try reading her face but it is a stone wall. "Listen," she says in that comforting voice all nurses and technicians seem to have,"I shouldn't do this but if you promise not to tell the doctors I want to show you something."
Grinning now she turns the screen to me, holds my hand, and says. "This is your baby. Measurements show 7.5 weeks like you thought. And this...see this flickering whit light? That's your baby's heartbeat. You're not miscarrying. You have first trimester bleeding from a subchromiach hematoma. It's found in 30 percent of pregnancies. Your baby is fine."
I remember screaming out, "Oh thank you!" And then bursting out in loud wailing tears.
I clutched my belly and said between sobs, "Oh my sweet little song, my little melody, you had me so worried! I thought we'd lost you!"
The technician held my hand for what seemed like hours and then when I had composed myself I left the room to tell my husband.
The sight of that little white light wouldn't leave my mind. I had been talking to my baby since day one but it hadn't sunk in just what was inside me. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with joy and a feeling of love I had never experienced. I honestly thought I knew love but apparently not like this. As I dialed my husband to tell him the good news it all sunk in. There was a tiny person in me. There was a baby to love in me.
I'd never felt so much joy in my life as I did at that moment.

Two little lines

After 18 years of waiting, the day before Mother's Day 2020 I received the most beautiful gift. My husband and I had just begun our medically approved attempt to become pregnant and after a few good signs I decided to take a pregnancy test that Mother's day weekend. I remember wanting to wait until the Sunday morning so I could find out if I was to be a mother on Mother's day itself but I am a far too impatient person to wait. Early Saturday morning May 9th before the crack of dawn I sat down to take the test.
In the movies they always show this person pacing for minutes while they wait to see one or 2 little lines and even the box says it takes 3 minutes but in reality that test will pop up positive or negative in mere moments. Mine took 30 seconds to show the results.
Positive! Two little lines appeared and my head swam with the revelation. I was pregnant! After 18 years of waiting for my body to safely attempt I was pregnant! And on our first try!
"Oh dear," I mumbled,"His chest and head are going to swell so much from this. However will I handle hubby's testosterone filled joy at being successful on our first attempt!" First try impregnation is rare in older adults and in my imagination I jokingly saw a caveman version of my husband and as I tell him he beats his chest saying, "Me husband, have strong seman, make wife very pregnant first try. Me so so good! Ugh!"
My hubby had never had the joy of a surprise revelation with his previous partners' pregnancies and despite my excitement I wanted to hold out til we were alone to do it. That meant waiting til evening once my two step daughters were at their grandfather's house for a sleepover.
"Shit," I whispered,"I don't have a poker face and I'm insanely impatient with surprises. How the hell am I to keep this surprise a secret for 14 hours!?"
I honestly have no idea how I did it but I managed to keep quiet til evening. Because of the pandemic I had to get creative at home but I did manage a small bit of magic. I told my husband that I was doing a video submission for a local musical and needed him to record me on his phone while I used my phone to see the words. As he sat with his phone pointed at me I began to shakingly sing, "There can be miracles when you believe
Though hope is frail it's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles you can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will
You will when you believe..." At the last line I pulled out a note that said to check the drawer in the coffee table. Inside there was a zip lock bag containing the positive results .
I'll never forget that look of confusion and then shear joy he had.
"We're having a baby!"
"You little imp," he said,"You're recording me too, aren't you? Oh I'm so happy for us!"
When he came by and wrapped strong arms around me I felt the most indescribable feeling of bliss.
I was a mom. We were pregnant. Finally. I said through tears,
"So this is what it feels like to be parents."