Author's Note: This post is about miscarriage. If that's not a thing you can read about, you should probably skip it.
First things first: Thank you.
It may not be fair to claim, but I think my baby was the most celebrated and loved baby in its short weeks of life in utero. Friends and family alike cheered me on, gave better hugs, and spoiled me with mermaid tail blankets, candy, and quality time.
Unfortunately, sharing my joy also means you get to share my sorrow. On Monday, October 23, I found out that my tiny IVF miracle wasn't alive anymore. That night, I started bleeding and we went to the ER. In the early hours of Tuesday the 24th, I underwent a D&C while my mom and husband tried to rest in the otherwise empty waiting room.
It's odd to start thinking backwards from now. The waves of sorrow, the texts from curious co-workers, the downright theatrical performance of my reproductive system, the perfect weekend we had before it started.
It's only been a handful of days and I'm still processing. My heart is broken and that's about the only thing I'm absolutely certain of.
I've never put less effort into sub plans in my life. I've never thought of a 10 minute walk as my big achievement for a day. I've never put on zero makeup for days in a row because I know it's all gonna come off if I bother to try. I've also never had more ice cream in my freezer and I've never felt closer to my husband.
I still don't believe this is a pain God designed for me. I also don't think this is where this story ends. But this pain is a part of us now.
...
And yes, our joke name Aegon the Unlikely is the real name now.
