Lying in the sonar room I was refusing to look at the screen - I wouldn't see much anyway seeing as my baby was only about the size of a sesame seed (1-2 weeks). Nevertheless the tears were streaming down my cheeks.
"Seven weeks." I heard the sonographer tell her assistant.
"What...?" I looked up in disbelief. I wish I hadn't. There was no "sesame seed" on the screen but a real little baby with arms and legs, suspended motionless in a sac below my womb. I remembered seeing my daughter, Sophia, as a little bouncing bean fluttering around in my stomach with a crazy heart rate. Seeing the motionless image on the screen in front of me brought and uncontrollable sob from the deepest core of my being. I cried and cried and cried. Where was this all coming from.
The next 24 hours were agonizing. Knowing that my dead child was still inside me. Every time I would go to the loo, bits of "matter" would fall from me. It smelt like death.
How could I be so incredibly happy and peaceful one day, and two days later feel like my world was ending?
In hind site, I realize that my baby had passed before I even found out I was pregnant, and that is why my hCG levels were so low - leading me to the misconception that I had only recently conceived.
In hind site, too, I realize that there were telltale signs of a pregnancy. But being pregnant was the last thing I imagined. Does that make you want your baby any less? No.
My baby's daddy would not have been a part of his life.
Did that scare me?
No.
I relished the thought of bringing up this child on my own.
I'm cynical. I don't believe in "happily ever afters". I would rather bring up a child alone, than have to bring up a child in an environment where mommy and daddy fight. Get divorced. You name it.
I guess I don't have to worry about any of that anymore.
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