I was roughly 1.5 months pregnant with our honeymoon baby. I knew the child in my stomach had been dealt a fatal prognosis. I knew the chance of me carrying this baby to full term was less than 1%. I knew that every second I carried this baby was 1 second closer to having to tell her good-bye.
A small number of people knew at the time what my husband and I were facing, I didn't want to deal with the woeful looks from friends and family. Looking back, I wouldn't change that. We needed the time both during and after to figure out how to move forward. After we had said good-bye to our daughter and emptied the sea of tears our bodies held, we told some friends and family about her life and death. For that support and love, I am so grateful.
Miscarrying a child is an indescribable pain. A child we created, that was so loved and so wanted, never got the chance to breath in that first breath of air and look into the faces of parents that loved her more than anything. It knocked Scott and I off our feet with the hardest blow imaginable.
It's a misconception that having other children heals the loss of a baby. Yes we wanted more children, but we also wanted the baby we lost. Our hands grew full as we had our son and 2nd daughter, but there is always a place in our hearts, a place that holds just a little sadness for the daughter that isn't with us.
I never would have imagined my greatest teacher would be a daughter to frail for this life. She helped create an unbreakable bond between Scott and I. She made me a kinder person, a better mother. She made me appreciate the littlest things in this life. I will always wish she was there at our dinner table, helping complete our family, but I am forever grateful that I had the opportunity to carry her and learn from her.