Twice

Yesterday we went in for a routine OB appointment, to check up on this 13-week pregnancy. Two ultrasounds later, it was official. There was no heartbeat. Our baby died a few days ago.

(Not again. Not again. Not again.)

This time, I asked for a copy of the sonogram. I don't know if I'll keep it, but I wanted a picture, just in case.

(This isn't happening.)

It's the same as last time. I FEEL normal - I'm still nauseous, still hungry, still tired, still sore. Only this time, you can also see the faint expansion of my belly. There's a curve there, just beginning. I went looking for my box of maternity clothes this past weekend, because I've already had to wear my pants unbuttoned. I thought it was a good sign that I was starting to show. It made me think we'd made it over the hurdle.

(We saw him, back in January. We saw the heartbeat. I was so relieved, so thankful.)

The doctor wants to run several blood tests to screen for a possible cause. He says it's a little unusual to have a healthy, normal pregnancy, then have two miscarriages, especially at 10 and 13 weeks. He promised us he'd do what he could to figure it out, if it's possible. If there's an even an answer. The D&C is set for next Wednesday.

(Does it really matter why? If there is something wrong, or if they can't find anything, if it really was just another fluke, another stroke of bad luck...does it matter?)

It is so much harder this time.

In June, I was comforted by the idea that the miscarriage was a blip on the radar, a small hiccup, nothing more. I thought we'd go on to have healthy happy children, and I would remember it as one small moment of sorrow in all the joy.

(I thought we were there.)

Now...now I can't reach for that comfort. I just can't. You can't tell me it probably won't happen, because it HAS. Two deaths in one year, two babies and two futures I've had to let go, two times I've visited this dark place. All I see, all I know, is this sadness, this second loss. I have no faith left.