First Post

My baby, Lula, left me and went to heaven on October 11th, 2009. My little bug who grew her wings, she lifts me up and has taught me how to live again. I hope and pray that one day we will be reunited in heaven and I will hold her in my arms and kiss her sweet face.

Here is our story. I'll be adding onto this post for a while until it's done.



Last summer, my boyfriend of two years and I got pregnant. We were not trying, but obviously not trying hard enough not to. We always had a rocky relationship, and we had just gotten back together after being separated for a little while. The situation was not ideal for having a child, but there was never any doubt in my mind that I loved this little baby, and I was going to do everything in my power to be a good mommy. I was scared, but also thrilled, determined, excited, committed.

I felt a new sense of purpose and perspective. Everything seemed difficult about making things all work out, but I didn't even care. I was going to be a mommy! Daddy on the other hand was less excited. At first, he was completely in denial, which gave way to absolute fear. He's a couple of years younger than me, and I guess it just didn't fit in his plan for his life at that point. He tried his best, I know that he did. He treated me as good as he could. He would fix me dinner and go out for random things I wanted or needed. But emotionally, I felt like I was really on my own. I knew I wanted to make things work between us now more than ever, but I also knew that I would do whatever was best for baby, even if that meant that her parents were not together. I wanted only for her to be healthy and happy, to have a childhood filled with love and innocence, not the craphole of a childhood that I had. Until I was pregnant, I hadn't really realized just HOW much I wanted to be a mommy. I spent my days and nights dreaming of my little precious baby.

But quickly, I started to get bad feelings, worried mama feelings. I scarcely wanted to give words to my fear, not wanting to give fear a route into my body and soul. I thought if I could only think positively everything would be okay. Then, I started bleeding. Not just a little spotting, but bright red bleeding. I hadn't even had my first OB appt yet. But still I called the doctor on call and asked them what to do. They told me to just wait and see, that there was really nothing that could be done, and that if I was losing too much blood to go to the ER.

The following morning, I went into the doctor. I waited nervously in the waiting room all alone, since my BF could not get out of work. When I finally got in to see the doctor, she did an exam, and then an ultrasound. Still expecting the worst, I was shocked when she said everything looked good and saw the little flicker of a heartbeat!

She said everything looked good and tried to reassure me that some women just have bleeding during pregnancy and it can be normal, but we'll just have to wait and see.

A couple of weeks later, still bleeding, I went back and to the doctor again, and my little bug was still growing and thriving. My mom, boyfriend, friends, everyone tried to reassure me that everything would be okay, but in my heart of hearts, I had a sinking feeling.

I would talk to my baby, sing to her in the car and in our quiet moments alone. As my belly started to grow, things got more real for my boyfriend. He seemed more scared, but at the same time, more excited. He would put his hand on my belly and talk to her at night, telling her how much we loved her and we just wanted her to stay with us and grow and be in our arms in a few months.

One night, I woke up and felt wetness "down there". I turned on the light and saw there was blood everywhere. I went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet as blood was just pouring out of me. I've never seen so much in my life. I knew at that moment, that my baby was not going to make it. My life changed in that instant, sitting alone in the bathroom, as all my dreams slipped away from me.

I can't write anymore about this right now, I'll have to come back later.

Okay, I'm back for another try, we'll see how far I get.

So, my boyfriend wakes up to me crying hysterically and sees all the blood. Bless his heart. I managed to get a hold of my doctor (around 4 AM) and she tells me that she is so sorry, and that if I start filling more than a pad an hour to go to the ER.

The next morning, my mom met me at the doctor's. And I had to wait in that stupid waiting room with all the happy pregnant women, and new babies. Luckily, my mom asked if they could just put us in a room to wait. Finally, it was time. I went into the room, where just a few weeks earlier I had been so happy to see my little bug and listen to her heart beating. And I was told what I already knew in my heart, there was no more heartbeat. Or as the doctor so coldly put it: "this pregnancy is no longer viable". Those words still hurt me and haunt me. She was more than a pregnancy. I didn't lose viability, I lost my baby!!

She wanted to get me in immediately for a D&C. She said I was too far along to try to miscarry naturally. I begged and pleaded to not make me do it. I just really didn't want it to happen that way. Finally, I convinced her to give me the weekend, and she sent me home with prescriptions for pain meds and pills to dilate my cervix and cause contractions. She also told me that if it was not "complete" by Monday, that she would really be pushing for the D&C, that it was not safe and she was worried about infection. She had no explanation for why this might be happening, and said it is very common. That didn't help me at all.

So, I went home, crying the whole way, stopping at the pharmacy to pick up my prescriptions. I started the pills that night after my bf got home. I had already been having contractions for two days and intense pain. Well, now things just got worse and worse. I couldn't walk, I could hardly sit up in bed. (TMI alert!!) I would only get up to go the bathroom, as massive blood clots poured from my body. I would catch everything to be sure I didn't miss the baby.

Saturday passed. On Sunday, things slowed. I could feel something in my cervix, I could just feel the pressure. I finally decided to go for a walk late at night. I went all by myself, just so I could have one last moment with my baby. I talked to her, and told her that it was okay for her to go on. I told her I loved her. I rubbed my belly and cried and cried and cried. When I got back to the house, I paced around a little more. I told my bf, "I think it's going to happen soon". Poor thing, he just had to watch me go through all of this.

I went into the bathroom. I had to push several times. And even still, she wouldn't come out. I finally had to reach in and pull her out. So, I delivered my tiny little baby into my hand. Still tucked safely in her little sac. I held her in the palm of my hand. I still remember everything about that moment. The warmth, the weight on my hand. The overwhelming sadness. The innate need to still take care of her. I placed her on a towel on the counter in the bathroom.

I came out, and I told my boyfriend that she was here. And then I went into this weird auto-pilot mode looking for something to put her in. I couldn't just put her in a plastic bag or anything. I searched the house high and low, until I finally found a little clay jar, painted with flowers. It was just the right size to tuck her into. I never opened the sack. I will always regret that. I wish I could have seen her, even though she was still so tiny, I wish I would have seen her anyway.

Once she was tucked into the jar with some pretty cloth napkins with flowers embroidered on them, I could not let her go. I sat on the couch, and I just held her. I wanted to keep her with me forever. I don't remember anything else of that night. I just remember not wanting to let go. When I finally went to bed, I placed the little jar in the refrigerator. I didn't know what else to do. For several days afterward, I would just get the jar out and hold it.

The next day, Monday morning, I went back to the doctor for another ultrasound where she confirmed that the baby was out (duh!! that's what I told you!). She said there was still a lot of tissue and clots left and gave me until Thursday to "finish" or I'd have the D&C. So, more meds that left me doubled up with pain. More bleeding, more clots. In a way I welcomed the pain, though. At least I could feel as bad physically as I did emotionally.

And even after all that, on Thursday, one full week after my contractions had started, I finally went in for the D&C to get out what was left of the placenta and whatever other crap was left. It was a rather painless affair, especially since I knew the baby was gone. But, still, it sucked really bad. I don't remember, but my boyfriend says that as I was waking up from surgery I was crying and screaming "where's my baby? Give me back my baby!!". Less than an hour later we were on our way home.

Again, things get a little hazy. I know I spent a lot of time on BBC pouring my heart out and seeking comfort from those who knew my pain. Quite honestly, I don't remember how I found the loss boards, I just found myself posting there. I also don't remember how, but my little bug became a dragonfly in my eyes.

And I guess I should explain that no, we never actually found out the sex of our baby. I did not want to take her in for any testing. I wanted to keep her with me. I had felt all along that she was a girl. And maybe I was wrong, but in my heart that is what she was. And I wanted her to be more than just "the baby" or "it" or "a miscarriage". She was a little life, my baby that I wanted so badly. I decided that even if she was a boy, that she (he) wouldn't be too terribly mad at me and would understand that I loved them. So, we started to try to think of a name. I didn't want to use any of the names we had been thinking about. Not that I would use those names in the future. I just wanted her to have a special name. An angel name. We came upon the idea to name her Lula from the Spanish word for dragonfly "libelula".

We agreed that we would bury her on my property where my house was currently being built. We went out on Saturday to scope out a spot and went shopping for a statue and candles, and dragonflies to hang around her.

Finally, just before sunset on Sunday, we drove out to bury our little angel. I held her in my lap the whole way. The drive was silent. Neither of us could even find the words to say. We arrived and started setting up. He dug the hole in the ground while I put the flowers around and lit the candles and held on to that little jar. Every shovel full of dirt he removed was digging away little pieces of my heart. We took turns holding her. We told her how much we loved her, that we were so sad that she was gone and we would always miss her. We both cried. I kneeled down, and said one last goodbye, kissed the jar, and placed it down in the hole. And there went another little piece of my heart. I put the first handful of dirt down, but I could not finish. My boyfriend had to cover her up and fill in the hole. We set the statue right on top of where she was. We said a little prayer asking God to take care of our little angel. We held each other and cried as the sun began to go down. Finally, slowly, I found the courage to walk away.

The car ride home was the worst. I felt like I had just left my baby in a hole in the ground. Oh, no, wait, that is exactly what I had just done. Well, that's what it felt like. I had just buried my child. She would never take her first breath, give her first cry, smile her first smile. It was over.

All in all, I missed two weeks of work. When I finally got back, I think the rumors had spread all over, but most people just avoided me. A good friend who had lost her son full-term almost two year before reached out to me. She was my saving grace. My one ally at work. On my bad days, which was most of them, she was always there. She never made me feel like my loss was trivial compared to hers (even though I know that what she went through was much harder). She was just there for me and understood everything I was feeling.

The next five, six, seven months were pretty much just me going through the motions of life. At first I was obsessed with TTC, but my boyfriend didn't want to and said we weren't ready. Once I realized it really wasn't going to happen, that's when I really lost it. I was beyond depressed. I had isolated myself from everyone and everything. I felt hopeless, and even more so when I noticed that my boyfriend was starting to get really tired of me. He went from being understanding and supportive to telling me that I was too depressed, and that I was depressing to come home to. He told me he was questioning our relationship altogether.

Eventually, I realized that I was still with him just because I was afraid to be on my own, especially when I was in that state. But I gathered my courage and made my decision to leave him. We didn't fight about it. I told him that I just needed to be on my own to work out all of my emotions and to get to a place where I could be okay again. I told him that we had both tried so hard to make the relationship work, and that I just didn't see it working and that was that.

So, within the span of a year, I went from separated, to back together, to expecting a baby, and planning a wedding, to losing the baby, to hoping and praying for a rainbow, still planning a wedding, and then finally, letting it all go. Now a single girl in the world, I had to find my own way. I could not rely on someone else to take care of me. I could not rely on hopes of a rainbow to get me through my days.

Slowly but surely, I've been clawing my way out of the pit. At first, it was hard to tell, but now looking back I see that I have come a long way. I've learned ways to cope with my grief. I've learned to own my feelings and not apoligize for them. I've learned that no one thinks you should grieve this long and this much over a "miscarriage", but this is how I am handling it. She was so much more than just a miscarriage. She was my baby that I cherished and loved. She would have been my first born. She made me a mother. I pulled her from my body. I held her in my hand. I buried her in the ground. I have always been a sensitive person with a huge heart, and this is just how I am dealing with it. And I think I'm doing a damn good job!

I am forever changed by the love for my angel. Like I said, she made me a mother, from the first time I saw those two little lines on the home preg test. All of my hopes and dreams vanished when she went away. But I have learned that she is not really gone. She is with me always. Yes, life will go on, but she will always be a part of it, she will always be in my heart.