Three weeks ago, I was cleaning out the silverware drawer while Ben was eating breakfast. We got to enjoy a bit of a late start due to my doctor's appointment. Who knew how many crumbs could get in a silverware drawer? And who could possibly bring a baby to a home with so many crumbs everywhere? I was full-on nesting.
An hour later, my world came crashing down.
That moment - where my doctor couldn't find Lydia's heartbeat - keeps replaying over and over in my mind. It's the stuff nightmares are made of.
My counselor told me for most moms, it's the moment of birth, the moment of hideous silence when birthing the baby. For me, it's the silent doppler. For me, it's the rising fear as my doctor can't find it. There was a moment, for a second, when that fear subsided. There was a heartbeat. And then the doctor told me that that heartbeat was my own. That second of hope that came crashing down. And she continued searching. And it wasn't there. And it wasn't there. And it wasn't there. For me, it's that torturous moment, that feeling deep-down inside, when I know.
And now there is my life before that moment, when I thought our biggest struggles were about stress and money and lack of time. And there is my life after that moment.