“I’m sorry, but there’s no heartbeat.”

April 12, 2017 was one of the worst days of my life.  After weeks of bedrest, we were shocked that our baby’s heart had stopped beating at 10weeks 1day old – signaling our 5th miscarriage.

I can remember April 12th clearly, or at least I remember feeling the blow of loss hit us once again.  Our 5th pregnancy had been going smooth with HCG and progesterone numbers rising at a good pace and early sonograms showing a growing baby with a strong heartbeat.  And at 8weeks in, I started bleeding.  I was put on bedrest immediately because my OB has found a small tear on the outside of the gestational sac, and if it didn’t stop growing or go away, it could lead to a miscarriage.

Throughout the two weeks of bedrest, we went to see my OB and get sonograms often.  I enjoyed seeing our baby grow, move and develop – it was exciting.  But that excitement was paired with fear and pain because the tear grew and grew, despite weeks of bedrest full of Netflix, reading and sleeping.  On Monday, April 10, we had a sonogram and appointment with my OB.  The baby was looking perfect, the heartbeat was a steady 188bpm.  The sonographer was enthusiastic and positive, while my OB was cautious and concerned.  Two days later, we went back for another check-up.  This time, the energy in the room was different.  The sonographer had found our baby easily and it looked great.  But she was quiet.  The white noise at the bottom of the screen that usually showed the peaks and valleys of the heartbeat was static.  I asked her if something was wrong, breathlessly anticipating the news she was about to deliver.  She said, “I’m sorry, but there’s no heartbeat.”  My eyes welled with tears, I reached for Nate’s hand, and just said “Fuck.”  Our baby was gone.  It was visible there on the screen, but it’s life had left it’s tiny developing body and all I could see was the white static.  And all I could think was “Fuck, not again.”

Two days later I had my second D&C.  They tested the baby and found no abnormalities.  It was healthy and perfect, and my doctor said that if that tear hadn’t been there, we would have a baby today.  It was crushingly depressing and I couldn’t believe we had to relive this experience of grief and loss yet again.  I remember telling myself to give it time, time to heal and to grief and to cry and to yell.  I wasn’t going to expedite this grief cycle.  For my husband and I, this loss was the hardest to bear.  After years of trying to sustain a pregnancy, another miscarriage left us feeling completely beat down.

Flash forward to today – it is exactly one year since our baby died.  And the wounds of loss are still fresh, the emotions are just as strong.  We have a framed sonogram photo in our closet and I look it daily.  I want to move forward from this but I don’t want to forget the life that we lost, or the lives that we’ve lost over the past four years.  Most days I’m fine and feeling strong, resilient.  But days like today bring me back to the pain, the loss, the disbelief that we suffered another miscarriage.  I don’t seek medical answers or explanations or fertility plans to move forward.  I seek peace and calm and presence in this moment, honoring the life we lost, remembering its heartbeat, its limbs, its movement, and our undying love for it.  We take things one day at a time, and today just happens to be harder than others.