sucks. But wanna know what makes it even worse? Being the parents who made the decision to “lose” that baby. After having a miscarriage at 6 weeks (this past fall), the last thing I thought I’d ever wish for was another one. But sure enough I found myself hoping our baby would pass away inside of me, in the most natural way possible. From that Monday (when we found out) to Thursday (when I had the procedure) every time I felt a cramp or something a little “off” I prayed it was nature taking its course, and some higher power preventing me from ending our little one’s life. How insane does that sound?

Between my hormones and grief, it’s been a difficult week. These are the things that seem to make me most sad:

• The fact that I chose not to hold our baby. I asked the nurse (who was incredibly sincere and kind during this process) to make that decision for me. In the end she said it was best that I didn’t but now I wish I had. I think our baby deserved that.
• The fact that I held a newborn yesterday and instead of being thrilled for my sweet friends, I felt sad for my own loss.
• The fact that a future pregnancy will be met with excitement but also fear.
• The fact that our baby’s ashes are in our bedroom… and I’m not sure what to do with them. Originally I wanted to bury them under a tree in our yard but now I can’t seem to part with the little box. Certainly a “problem” I didn’t think I’d ever be dealing with.
• The fact that being at my in-laws house seems to be a trigger for me. We spent the majority of our time there when finding out about the baby and dealing with the appointments and logistics of it all. My MIL was watching Lucy because my parents were at a family member’s funeral. So now each time I’ve walked into their house since then I start to feel myself getting emotional.
• The fact that I didn’t mourn my sweet cousin who passed the week prior because, for me, it was overshadowed by my own baby’s passing.
• The fact that I would be 16 weeks pregnant now if we’d chosen to keep the pregnancy going.
• The fact that I ended our little one’s life. Yes, I did it because the outcome would have been the same and no doctor could tell me with 100% certainty that this baby wouldn’t have felt pain and/or discomfort for the remainder of the pregnancy (I couldn’t live knowing he/she could have been in pain), but at the end of the day I still ended it. That’s something I have to live with and yikes, it’s not an easy pill to swallow, nor should it be.

We made the only decision we felt we had, but it was still a very, very shitty one. Hoping it all gets a little easier to cope with sooner than later.

Grateful: For Lucy’s adorable waddle/walk. I honestly feel like I could just stare at her for days.