April 18th, 2019. It’s a day that is burned in my memory forever.

We were 10 weeks pregnant with our angel baby. So excited for the first ultrasound. No one knew we were pregnant. No one even knew we were trying. We walked into the drs office, so excited, so naive. We were new to this so when the sonographer told us she was going to get the Dr, I didn’t even think anything of it.

As we waited for the Dr to come in, we chatted with each other. We laughed. We had no idea what was coming. Half an hour later, she came in. She sat down on the lower step of the bed in the office, looking up at us. (I’ll never forget that part. The way she got down to our level, almost on the floor. Taking time out of her busy day to tell us painful news that I’m sure she has to tell more often than she wishes.) She placed her hand on my knee and tears welled up in her eyes. Jake grabbed my hand and I saw tears start to form in his eyes.

She told us our baby measures 6 weeks and 6 days but that there was no heartbeat.

She said it’s most likely a miscarriage but to come back in a week. She also continued to tell us that it was not our fault. That Jesus died on the cross for us and there was nothing we could have done or could ever do to cause this. It’s part of the broken world that we live in. Of course I knew this, but having a Dr who believed the same, was a huge blessing and so encouraging during this moment.

I called my family. We told them I was pregnant. They cried with us over FaceTime. We went to our small group and told our friends. They cried and prayed with us. The next day we celebrated my 26th birthday, it was bittersweet. That week I traveled home to Pennsylvania with a little baby in my belly but it wasn’t like I pictured. We didn’t celebrate you. No one touched my belly. No one talked about you. But not because we didn’t want to, because we didn’t know how to.

I had no symptoms of miscarriage. So I went on for the next 10 days, wondering if you were alive or if I would start to miscarry at any second. We prayed and prayed and prayed for a miracle. For your little heart to start beating by my next appointment. Over the next 10 days I photographed a wedding. Attended a baby shower. And a bridal shower. I avoided wine. Spend time with family. Hung out with friends. And tried to continue on with life as normal.

10 days later I got my blood drawn. You threw us for a loop. My levels were high. Much higher than before. For 24 hours we feared an ectopic pregnancy or a molar pregnancy. I had my follow up ultrasound. Everything was perfect. Except you still had no heartbeat. The Dr prescribed me some pills. I told Jake to go back to work, I would be fine. I labored alone for a few hours but quickly realized it was the worst pain of my life and begged Jake to come back home. Eventually, the physical pain was over.

But the next few months were just as emotionally painful as the physical part was.

I watched friends get pregnant and stay pregnant. I continued to get emails and updates on how pregnant I should have been. The stress of it all affected my fertility but finally, those two pink lines showed up again and your brother or sister became our rainbow baby.

Today was supposed to be my baby shower for our rainbow baby. A chance to finally celebrate the baby we have been praying for for over a year. It feels like so many things related to pregnancy has been robbed from me and was looking forward to this day being redemptive. But shower or not, today is a good day because I’m that much closer to meeting the baby that will join us here on earth and the baby that we’re missing in heaven.
And tomorrow is my 27th birthday.

Finally, it’s the year I become a mama.