In the beginning of February I went to the doctor for a routine checkup... I was perfectly healthy and everything was fine. Apparently I picked something up when I was at the doctor (this is why I never go to the doctor for no reason- I don't want to get sick if I'm not sick already!), and a few days later I got what I thought was a cold, so I stopped running until I felt better... after a week I was feeling a little bit better and I didn't want to put off running any more, so I went for another run. Then I felt worse, so I stopped. A week later I started feeling a little better and decided to go for another run, again. While I was on my run I started feeling like I might have been having a mini asthma attack- I don't have asthma- so I decided that I better go back to the doctor the next day. And it was a good thing I did! Apparently I had picked up RSV, which caused some pretty good bronchitis and even a little bit of pneumonia! My doctor gave me 5 prescriptions and sent me home. The next day I started feeling like I did when I was pregnant, and I spent the next 5 days trying to convince myself that the drugs were totally messing with my body and giving me all those symptoms... except that I was also 3 days late and I am never late. It could have been the drugs doing that, too, but finally I decided I better just take a test to know for sure.
When the test immediately showed positive I was shocked. I was so sure that it had to be negative- we had been preventing and our timing shouldn't have resulted in a pregnancy even if we hadn't been preventing! Dave and I were completely shocked, but we were excited, of course! I really really really wanted a third child, but Dave had said no, so I hadn't been allowing myself to hope- after the shock wore off I planned and planned and planned! I was so excited and happy!
But I was also still sick. I didn't feel like I was getting any better, and all my coughing was causing so much pain that we were pretty sure that I had pleurisy, had bruised ribs, or both! And on top of that, I got my first ever sinus infection. I was sick for weeks, and I was pretty worried about how my baby was faring being in the body of someone who was so sick. As it turned out, she wasn't faring very well at all. We found out on March 29th that the baby had died, and on April 13th I went in for surgery to remove the deteriorating pregnancy tissue. I was devastated, of course, and I'm still struggling with it. A lot. Not one single day goes by that I don't think about the little baby I lost, who should have been my sweet Isabella that I had been dreaming about since I was 14, and while I'm thinking about her I, of course, also think about the first little baby I lost, the boy who would have been Jack's older brother. I comfort myself with the image of my grandfather, who my sweet Samuel Kenneth was named for, in heaven craddling my baby girl in one arm while he teaches her older brother the proper way to lick out his ice cream bowl. And I keep my family- all of us- around my neck and close to my heart. One charm for Dave and me and one charm for each of my beloved children, both the ones in my arms and the ones in my heart.
So, as I said- my blog break has been for a good reason. I couldn't just move on and continue posting as though nothing had happened- the children I've lost are just as precious to me as my Jack and Sam are, and they absolutely deserve a post of their own as an acknowledgement that no matter how short their time was, they mattered. And they still matter. And I love them and I miss them.