Hello, Little One

Sensitive content: pregnancy / child loss.

"Hello, Little One!"

My husband is speaking to my belly.

The positive pregnancy test is sitting just off to the side.

I couldn't believe it! I told him straight away. We had been trying for a while but with no luck. I had almost given up after the last negative test.

I had thought that when the time comes, I would announce it to my husband in some elaborate, clever way. But screw that! Screw waiting! Why wait to celebrate when we are now a family of 3?!

Straight away he shared my excitement, and we both found extra room in our hearts for this little life.

I can't wait to find out if it's a boy or a girl! Or to set up the nursery and find baby clothes!

I can’t wait to announce it to our family and friends.

I can’t wait to feel it’s little kicks.

I feel great; I can't wait for our ultrasound!

"There's no heartbeat. I'm so sorry."

Those words echo in my head. I can't get them out. I stare out the window as we drive home.

"Are you coming in?"

I can't move. I just sit and stare. My eyes fixated on nothing but unable to look away.

I'm a shell, and the only thing inside me are those words bouncing around.

“I’m so sorry.”

I just barely shake my head, no.

"I'll see you inside." He says as he exits the car.

I'm a shell, but the tidal waves hit and out comes the downpour. I don't try to stop it. I cry so much I think the car will fill up with water and I might drown.

I don't care if I do.

I wipe my eyes with my sleeves until they're equally as wet. Then I move on to the hem... then the elbows... I need to go inside and find tissues... or a towel.

Before I head inside, I look down and touch my belly:

"Goodbye, Little One."

Sometimes in bed he hugs me from behind and I hear stifled sniffs. He's crying. I don't know if it brings me comfort or more sadness, knowing he is also mourning.

It's been months now. We don't tell anyone, but I still mourn that little life. The life that expanded my heart. The life that nearly grew inside me. The life that nearly made me a mother.

I don't like talking about it. I don't know how he feels now, but he hasn't been the same.

He's quieter. He holds my hand more. He fills up the silence with his touch, making up for the words that neither of us have the courage to speak in to existence.

I go about my days on auto-pilot. I do what I need to, barely looking to the side. My shell keeps me safe and I'm not ready to come out.

Those words haunt me at night when I can't sleep.

"There's no heartbeat..."

One morning as I'm trying to go back to sleep, I feel sick. I can't keep it down. I make a trip to the bathroom and try not to wake him. It must have been something I ate.

For the rest of the day I make several trips to the bathroom. I can't stop throwing up.

I'm so tired, I refuse dinner and go to bed.

I brush my teeth and wash my face. As I fiddle around in the cabinets I see the old box of pregnancy tests.

Something clicks in my mind.

Wait. Surely not...

I take one out and try.

'Pregnant'.

I don't believe it.

"Babe!?" There's an urgency in my voice.

He makes his way to me quickly and sees the test in my hand.

"Are you serious?"

Neither of us believe it.

We are about to have our first ultrasound again, but this time I'm not excited. I'm terrified, until:

Wub, wub, wub, wub, wub...

We hear it. The swooshing little heartbeat fills the room like drums.

Suddenly my shell cracks and I feel brave enough to look out.

I look at my husband and I smile for the first time in what feels like months. His eyes are welling up, and I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

Aside from the first few weeks of my pregnancy, I have been feeling great. The sickness didn't last long and was quickly followed by cravings: cream cheese bagels with crushed Cheetos.

We find out the gender at the next ultrasound, but we are keeping it to ourselves. Though part of me thinks it might be easier to not know - in case I have to say goodbye again.

My pregnancy goes by reasonably fast. I speak to my bump often and feel the little kicks. My husband has felt them too, and says the baby is a fighter.

One night I start feeling contractions after dinner. Originally, I thought I had eaten something that didn't agree with me, but it was just the baby saying it's ready.

We go to the hospital and things progress quickly. In no time I'm telling people I have to use the toilet.

"That means the baby is coming, you need to push!"

They're wrong, I don't need to push, I need t-

Fuck

Ok, they are right. I need to push.

I work with my body, pushing with each contraction.

I'm so exhausted, and in so much pain, I can't do it anymore.

I squeeze my husband's hand so hard I think it might break. But he doesn't complain, even when I feel my nails digging into his skin.

"One more, you can do it!"

Something takes over me. From somewhere deep in the depths that took over me for all those months, erupts the last piece of strength I didn't know I had.

I close my eyes. I brace for one last push and let out a noise I'd never heard myself make before.

Then I hear crying.

A little body is placed on my chest.

My husband kisses my forehead and looks at our baby with tears in his eyes.

"Hello, Little One."