05 October 2006


I had a little boy once. We saw his heartbeat a few days before Christmas 2004, when we rushed to the hospital sure that he was already gone. But there he was, a beautiful smudge on the sonogram, with a winking little heart.

My doctor found this encouraging, and for a few hours, so did I. Then the cramps and bleeding renewed for a few days, and then faded away. It was the holidays. No one was available to do yet another sonogram. So we made an appointment for a few weeks hence, and we waited.

As a week or so went by, I began to hope again. Foolishly, maybe, but after all, we had seen a heartbeat.

In the early morning on the day of my appointment, bleeding began anew. And the hope died even before the kindly nurse practitioner searched in vain for a heartbeat, then called in a doctor just to make sure.

I already knew.

Jon and I both had a strong impression from the beginning that this baby was a boy. A few weeks later, I had one of those waves of sadness and prayed that God would take care of our lost little one. And a name was pressed into my mind: Evan. With it was a mental picture of a little toddler boy running through a meadow.

Sometimes I still think about him. I wonder if he's waiting for us.


Last Thursday, I had a positive pregnancy test. I made an appointment with a gynecologist for yesterday afternoon. Yesterday morning I started cramping and bleeding. The doctor was so nice and sympathetic. He did a sonogram. Look, he said, here's the sac. It's still there. It measures perfectly for five weeks. Be optimistic, he said. I've seen women with more serious symptoms than yours go on to have healthy babies. Wait a while, he said. Make an appointment for next week, and we'll check again. Be optimistic, he repeated, as he squeezed my hand.

But this is my third time. I already know. I'd like to be proven wrong. But I don't have it in me to be optimistic. Not about this.


Our next appointment is Tuesday afternoon. Please pray for us. Blogging isn't the best way to tell you what's happening, but I just couldn't face making phone calls right now.

Glory Baby lyrics by Watermark


Wendy said...

I'll be optimistic for you - I'll add your baby to the prayers I've been fervishly sending out for the conception of our own. And, who knows, maybe Mom's dream will come true (hopefully, her's and NOT mine). And, on a lighter note, I KNEW you were lieing to me the other day! Even from across the ocean, you can't fool me!

Wendy said...

Fervently, I meant. Fervishly is not a word. I know that. This happens when I am doing too many things at once.

Carol N. said...

Oh Jenn. *sigh* When I had my loss in summer of 2001, and then I had 6 months of IUI's without a single positive result; I felt awful all the time. Then another loss at Christmas of 2002. (I found out on Christmas Eve!) I remember how hopeless I felt. It's so hard to think "maybe this time will be different". Part of me wanted to think that it would be different and part of me would think that. But after experiencing "infertility", any pregnancy is full of doubt. Every moment of every day feels so long and completely insecure. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. What will happen? Was that cramping I felt? Am I spotting? It is agony. Over-analyzing every twinge, every feeling. And on top of that, having to care for the child that you have, so you cannot fully let yourself have your feelings. That is really difficult.

Know that my heart is with you. There can be success when it seems hopeless. I'm hoping and praying for you.