What do I say? I started this blog to feel like myself again. A new house, a new career and a pandemic took its toll on me and I thought, “write about it.” After a few posts and feelings of anxiety about where this was going I just stopped.
I moved on to my next venture….baby number two. I had gone back and forth about this. I even joined a Facebook Support group for Moms trying to decide if they are “one and done.” Its not that I don’t want more…I do. But my husband is 50, I am finally getting sleep and my boobs are sitting (sagging) right where they are meant to be. AND….my post partum depression was bad….real bad. I don’t remember my sons first word, first step, first food. The first year was a blur! One day, I woke up “ok.” And since then I remember everything. The good, the bad and the Covid.
I don’t know when the moment came when I said, “ lets see what happens.” All I know is I found a new gyno (story on why for another post), booked an appointment, and found myself saying to this new Doctor I have never met as the cold metal speculum was in my lady parts, “while you are up there can you take my IUD out?” And just like that…I was FREE. Free to let the “universe” decide if I was meant to be the mother of two.
What I want to know is how I went from giving it to the universe, to tracking my period, my ovulation and my “most fertile days”. I got pregnant with my son, Michael, by mistake. I was engaged, in love and planning a future but we did not try to get pregnant. So this time it felt….unnatural. Don’t get me wrong, telling my husband we needed to have sex everyday was fun for a few days. Sex three days in a row!!! But after that it became, something we had to check off our to do list. It was no way to make a baby. It was not that way we made our son. With love.
The first month we tried I was pregnant! I was sitting in a work meeting and thought “ouch, I need to go pump soon,” and then I remembered I don’t breast feed anymore. i ran to CVS next door and took a test in the bathroom. Thinking of it this is the second thing that felt off. When I found out I was pregnant with my son I was with Danny (my husband) and the look on his face when he saw a positive will be with me forever. He wasn’t just happy…he was transformed. In that moment we were tethered together forever. No ring, no vow could connect us like finding out we would bring a child into this world together.
That memory is so special for me. So why did I rob him of the chance to find out together again? I’ll never know the answer. But I know if I am blessed with a next time I will do things differently
I told him in a way I thought was “cute”…video is attached. And we went on our merry way as a couple with their second child on the way. We told family early, because we found out early. We told our son, Michael who was almost 3. And my step children. Everyone was so happy for us.
I was so determined to make sure I enjoyed every moment of this, but early on this pregnancy felt different. I was strangely large for how pregnant I was. (Photos attached)
All my friends told me it was normal. You are always bigger with your second. I was sure that at my first ultrasound, at 8 weeks it would be twins. I had no idea what I would be told instead.
On August 26th I watched as the ultrasound tech found the “sac” and then confirmed with me twice that I was 8 weeks. I was sure, I tracker everything. But she assured me I shouldn’t worry. The baby was measuring at 6 weeks and this happens.
I knew something was wrong. But I had to smile and pretend for a week until my next ultrasound. On September 2nd I was told by the same tech “I’m sorry, the baby is smaller there is no heart beat.” I was taken into an exam room and given my options. I got a prescription for the Mizo pill just in case and went home to have the two week melt down, rock bottom, train wreck Sara that ensued.
The days blurred. The tears and alcohol flowed. I lost track of time, of myself of anything. How could this happen to me?
I was told by my Doctor that it was recommended I wait a week and have another ultrasound. I was a shell. I wanted to fully mourn but couldn’t, I wanted to have hope but couldn’t…that was the worst week of my life.
On Sunday 9/12 at my sons first soccer practice, in my new town, with all the moms and dads I didn’t know yet…it happened. I got on the field to help Michael and when I came back to my soccer mom chair, Danny said “Babe, you are bleeding.” I felt a gush, looked down and I was covered in blood. In front of a bunch of strangers.
To be continued…
Suddenly Santilli 