I don't actually know how to write this post. Every possible way to say what I have to say sounds overly dramatic, and what's happening here isn't dramatic. It's just sad.
Anyway, we lost the other baby today. Or, more accurately, I should say that we learned today that the other baby died, probably about a week after my last doctor's appointment. I went in today for a routine prenatal visit, and the doctor couldn't find the heartbeat with the doppler. She told me not to worry, it's early yet, but that she'd just do a quick abdominal ultrasound to be sure. By the time we did that, though, it was clear there was a problem. She had a hard time finding the baby at all, and even I could see that it wasn't moving. No little heartbeat, like last time. Still, she did a transvaginal ultrasound, just to make sure. This time it was clear -- no heartbeat, and the baby stopped growing as of 8 weeks, 0 days. Apparently my body's in denial, since it's held on to the baby for almost three weeks. So I need to have a D&C, which will happen on Wednesday morning.
There are two things that absolutely kill me about this. The first is that I knew there was something wrong. A few weeks ago, I realized I hadn't had any pregnancy symptoms for a while. No nausea, no more fatigue, nada. If I hadn't already seen the baby with my own eyes, I would never have known I was pregnant. Plus, with having already lost the one, I just had a feeling the other baby wouldn't make it, either. I told the Boy that I had a bad feeling about this pregnancy a little while back, but he reminded me that I'd been paranoid with the Cheeto, too. I couldn't explain that with her, it had been an entirely different brand of paranoia. With the Cheeto, I simply couldn't believe my luck, so I half-convinced myself before every visit that I'd get there and the baby would simply have vanished.
This time, however, things were different. I've had an underlying feeling of dread ever since the first ultrasound. And somehow, I just never came to believe that the pregnancy was really happening; a feeling that the lack of symptoms bolstered. So when that feeling was confirmed this afternoon, I couldn't help but feel that somehow my lack of faith was what killed this baby. In my head, I know that's ridiculous, but my heart just isn't listening.
The other thing that hurts is the idea that my poor little baby died weeks ago, all alone, and nobody knew it. I don't know why this bothers me so very much. At that stage, the baby barely had a brain, let alone feelings. But still, I can't get out of my head the idea that somehow, I should have known exactly when it happened, instead of just going on with my life as my child died inside of me (by the way, the medical term for what happened here, missed abortion, is both brutal and apt). I know, by the way, that this is directly contradictory to what I just wrote about having known something was wrong, but nobody ever said loss is rational.
So I'll have a D&C on Wednesday. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified. They say that I'll be under "light sedation," which seems cruel to me. I don't want to be there, thinking about them sucking my baby from my body. I'd far rather sleep through the whole thing and pretend he or she just disappeared, like the twin did. But women make it through this and much worse things every day, so I guess there's no point in whining.