Over the past two months, a forlorn silence has preceded life changing moments. Waking up with intense nausea was my clue to take a pregnancy test on a quiet August morning. I waited alone in the bathroom and watched with awe as two pink lines quickly appeared. I ran downstairs to show Jesse. He stared quietly at the positive test in disbelief. We had waited ten months for this moment.
Fast forward to the 8 week ultrasound where I awaited the precious flicker of my baby's heartbeat, the baby whom I had loved, prayed for, and spoken to continuously. The eerie silence of the ultrasound technician said a thousand words. Quiet tears evolved into hysteria as the doctor informed me of my options to end my "non-viable pregnancy".
Days later landed me on an operating table where I was prepped for a D&C. The overstimulating hospital lights, sounds, and sensations were all suppressed as I entered an unconscious state. Waking up with the familiar feeling of having given birth (contracting uterus, cramping, bleeding, exhaustion) without the joy of holding a baby made it difficult to breathe.
And here I sit with a heavy heart, forsaken. Waiting for the burden to lift. Waiting for peace to come. Waiting for a new reality. Waiting in silent turmoil...