(A happy day for me back in August)
I opened the bathroom door to find my husband standing right outside, anxiously anticipating the news I was withholding from him. "Well?" he began to inquire. My face must have given the answer away, for he burst into a smile and lifted me up off the floor, twirling me around like a top. "We're finally pregnant?!"
Yet, by the time November arrived, we were greeted with unexpected surprises. "You will have to go in for an emergency ultrasound," my doctor advised us, and so we went. I sat and waited for answers in dreadful agony, while the technician decided to play dumb: "I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything. I'm not a doctor!" We desperately tried holding onto hope; it was the only thing we had left...
But, my doctor still called with the inevitable news... They could no longer find a heartbeat... My brain couldn't fathom such a possibility. Had I done something wrong? Was it the medication I had been prescribed? Were there people wishing ill upon us? Was God displeased with us? I didn't receive an answer, and the hardest thing to accept is that I never will...
It is a few weeks later, and my husband and our 3-year-old daughter stumble onto a cemetery. Thinking there will not be a better opportunity to discuss these things, my husband finally explains what happened to the baby, to her little brother...
(Our daughter exploring the cemetery)
Thank you for reading, and may the magic of the season be upon us all! 🙏🎄