Henry

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One year ago we saw that second pink line on a home pregnancy test, and our hearts leapt out of our chests, tears running down our faces as we realized that finally, after two IUIs and four rounds of donor egg IVF, we would be parents.

At 6 weeks, 5 days, we saw you for the first time and your beautiful blinking heart. With just one more confirmation in 2 weeks to hear you and see how you’ve grown, we started reading the books, we started nesting, we even looked at a stroller for you. We made our first appointment with the midwife to see after “graduation” from our fertility clinic and, in early August we sat on our sofa talking to the world’s most perfect doula and confirmed that she’d be with us as we brought you into this world, to be born right here in our home.

The day before you were 9 weeks, we went in confidently to our final appointment, expecting to graduate…and found out your heart had stopped. I unleashed a cry in the clinic that was beyond gutteral. We fell apart in each other’s arms in the parking lot, your dad and I, as our dream of you was torn from us.

Your little self, your little heart, lie still inside my body, waiting to slip out of me in a way that would eventually take 2 pills, 12 hours of severe contractions and several weeks of heavy bleeding. We were in the depths of hell. Destroyed. I simultaneously dealt with the grief of losing you and the grief of having my mother, who I was working my ass off to rebuild a relationship with, ignore me through my miscarriage to be with her brand new boyfriend (who she’d started dating just a couple of months after the death of her husband of 35 years) – just as she’d shown zero interest or sympathy in our long struggle with infertility.  I don’t know how I finished the summer. I don’t remember it.

I have no proof but my gut told me that we were going to have a boy. We had many girls names chosen but I referred to the baby inside me as “he”. Henry, the name we’d chosen but not shared, was the only name we had for a boy. I can’t explain it but I knew in my heart that this little one we’d worked so hard for was a son.

After this loss, I never fully got my zen groove back for the 5th and 6th rounds of DEIVF. I tried to focus my heart and mind but I never was quite the same. I thought all it took now were throwing more embryos in on the 5th one, then after having the ERA I thought that was going to be the answer. It wasn’t. Ethiopia closed their program just before our final IVF heartbreak, ripping out the two years we’d spent waiting for our little girl to be matched with us.

My heart shattered even more. My back disintegrated into a herniated disc. My retina detached. My trust in the universe, in healing what I had lost? Eliminated.

Have you seen Minnie Driver in Return to Zero where she tears up her vision board? That’s me.

We may be in the domestic adoption journey but this is not related to that. It never will be. This loss will always cling to me. I will always have this memory of motherhood burned in my brain. This child that began to form in my womb, this baby boy.

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  One thought on “Henry

  1. July 1, 2017 at 5:59 am

    You have had so much loss šŸ˜” I look at the bee hive, the roses, the beautiful garden space you have created. Any child would be lucky to have you as parents. I am sorry Henry only had a short time with you and that a little girl from Ethiopia will not get sticky with the honey from your hive as she helps you.
    I also want to say, I always admire your eloquence.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. mamajo23
    July 1, 2017 at 7:23 am

    The heaviness of this grief hit me so hard just reading it. I am so sorry you have to carry this. Sending my love.

    Like

  3. July 1, 2017 at 8:44 am

    So sorry for your lost. Sending you (((hugs)))

    Like

  4. July 1, 2017 at 10:11 am

    I have tried to think of the right thing to say but everything I write doesn’t seem quite right. You’ve been though so much. My thoughts are with you xx

    Like

  5. July 1, 2017 at 1:06 pm

    Feeling so heavy hearted to read your journey. Life is so not easy, sending you my hugs.

    Like

  6. July 1, 2017 at 5:32 pm

    May the incredibly special place that Henry holds in your heart bring light to your life and bless you on your continued journey towards growing your family.

    Like

  7. July 1, 2017 at 11:18 pm

    Xoxo

    Like

  8. survivingmiscarriagetogether
    July 2, 2017 at 2:49 am

    Iā€™m so sorry x

    Like

  9. July 3, 2017 at 2:33 am

    Absolutely heartbreaking. I’m so sorry for what you have been through.

    Like

  10. July 3, 2017 at 4:10 am

    God i remember reading your post a year ago so vividly, in 2 months time it’ll be a year since our 12 week scan. It’s all so shite. :’-(

    Like

  11. Betty
    July 5, 2017 at 7:46 am

    Wow, this was a really moving post. I also lost mine at 9 weeks last summer. I never saw that movie Return to Zero so I watched it this weekend and just cried the whole time. That was clearly written by someone with experience with loss. The way she noticed how everyone else had children and the photos of their children, and the stupid things people say. I feel like I need to watch it again.

    Liked by 1 person

    • July 5, 2017 at 8:14 am

      It was actually based on a true story – the director of the movie and his wife had gone through this and so much was taken from their own experiences, which is why it was done so well.

      Liked by 1 person

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