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Michael

by the Dettmans

Date: Mon, 8 Nov 1999

I found out that I was pregnant on September 12, 1999. My husband and I only tried once, we did it on the first try! I bought some little diapers (a first for me) and wrote the message that we were pregnant on them to close family members. My parents have saved their diaper that said, "You are going to be a Grandmom and Granddad." Even before I officially found out that I was pregnant, I loved our child. When I knew for sure, our baby became everything to me.

I bought the baby clothes, planned for the nursery, and rubbed my tummy all the time. I made it a point to talk to the little person inside of me and to sing to it. I wanted my child to know my voice from the very beginning. My husband, Jason, talked to our child through my belly button every night.
Told the baby that we love it very much and that we can't wait until we can all meet face to face.

I was past the 10 week point. Almost to the second trimester. The doctor appointments had gone so well, we decided to tell some friends. I am a teacher at an elementary school. I was glad to join the ranks of the other pregnant women, there were four of us. I was the last to have had my baby, I was due in May.

Last Tuesday morning, I woke up and followed my normal routine. The only thing that was different was that there was a tiny drop of light colored blood on my toilet paper. I was a little concerned, but didn't see any blood later on. I did call the doctors office, I was a new mom and felt the need to report everything. I had an appointment for later that day. I didn't ask my husband or my mom to come with, it wasn't a big deal. I was sure that everything was fine. Actually, I was excited. I was going to get a sneak peak at my baby. I knew that they would probably do an ultrasound, we weren't scheduled for one until December.

The physical exam went well. My uterus was enlarged, I was "showing", still had symptoms of pregnancy, and my cervix was closed. "Nothing to be concerned about", the nurse told me. So we listened for a heart beat.
Nothing. I was still not concerned, "I am heavy," I thought, "that's why we can't hear a heart beat." I can't much remember the ultrasound. There was my placenta on the screen, but there was no baby. I will never forget the nurse telling me that this was a miscarriage.

A miscarriage, to me, was when a baby came out with all of the blood in your toilet! I only had one drop of blood! "Please God, Pleas God, help me!" I was practically screaming this in the doctors office. "Where is the baby?
Just look harder, I know that it's in there!" One day later the D&C.

Now I am left empty. Where a baby once made my tummy stick out, it's flat.
My breasts don't hurt any more. No more milk. I am alone. Of coarse my husband and family is here, in fact they are a terrific support. Still, I am alone.

We named our baby Michael. It wasn't a name that we had even considered. The name came to me when I was in the hospital. I kept thinking of our baby as Michael. Not as a "blighted ovum", but a child. The child that I had loved, and took care of, and dreamed about. The child of our dreams.

I have now entrusted my baby to God. This was a choice that I didn't want to make. There must be a reason for this, I am looking. "Please God, take care of my sweet little baby, Michael. Love him like his mama would have. Let him live with the angels."

I am so sad. So utterly sad. Why can't the world stop and wait for me to be better? Instead, I am supposed to go on with my life as if nothing has happened. I am grieving the loss of my child. Why is this so difficult to understand. I will go on - I have to. But my heart is broken. My heart is broken.

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