Our Pregnancy: We Lost The Baby.

It's an awkward thing to say. I didn't know how really. I have waited for a week or so trying to find the right words or the right time to tell the world. But there's just not going to be. We lost the baby.

Miscarried, actually. That's what it's called. I was 12 weeks. We just announced it, really. I should have waited but I was doing all this traveling and wanted people to know why I wasn't having a glass of wine, why I maybe wasn't eating very much, why I looked kind of sick. And I was excited. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But then, when something like this happens, you have to tell everyone about it.

I'm not going to lie, I'm mad. I'm heartbroken. I don't know if I'm going to share too much. But I know I felt isolated. I wasn't; I know this. But I felt it. So if you've ever experienced it, I just want you to know you're not alone.

I was in Memphis for a St. Jude conference, and there was some spotting. Nothing out of the ordinary for the first trimester, but I didn't experience it with Xander. I called the doctor and went in just to check things out on Monday. "Just to be safe," they said. My heart knew something was wrong before I even went.

So Monday rolled around, and I was in the office, and the ultrasound starts. I watched the screen for the flashing of the heartbeat. There was no flashing. I looked at the doctor, she was silent. She stayed silent for too long. I knew before she spoke. My heart was already in my stomach. She brought in another doctor to verify what she knew was true. There was no heartbeat. The baby had stopped growing. It was over. I had lost it.

I didn't fall apart until I got to the car. I called my husband and cried so hard I could barely breathe. I had to repeat to him what had happened because he could hardly understand my words through the large sobs.

The other part of this is that my body wasn't processing it. It was trying, but not happening. So I could either schedule a d & c, or take some medicine to help my body process it. I try to avoid going under if I can, so I opted for the medicine route. I had travel plans for work last week so the plan was to take it on Saturday when I got back.

What made it even worse is I was still having the side effects of being pregnant. I was still having morning sickness. That seemed so incredibly unfair. I shouldn't have to go through all of that when I don't get the baby in the end.

My body didn't feel like waiting though, and started processing everything on Wednesday. I was sitting in a room full of my colleagues, and all of a sudden, there's that. It wasn't a full process, but it was enough to cause alarm. I had to ask someone for help in the situation, so I had to become very close and personal with this person very quickly. Luckily, she was extremely kind and very helpful. But still, it felt, intrusive to her. I felt like I wasn't supposed to talk about it. I hadn't talked about it. No one knew.

So no one knew either when I started crying, after Justin Moore sang his new song, "The Ones That Didn't Make It Back Home," why I couldn't stop. I tried. I kept telling myself, 'Carletta, get it together.' But no matter how hard I tried, the tears wouldn't stop. I finally had to walk into restroom and I fell apart. I felt embarrassed. I felt unprofessional. I felt alone.

I get back home and even though my body had started the process, the doctor still wanted me to take the medication. So I did, on Saturday. I was prepared for the physical part. They had told me it could be really painful. There would be a lot of bleeding. To keep myself monitored. I was ready for that.

What I wasn't ready for was the mental and emotional toll it took on me. I broke down in the middle of it. I mean, I lost it. I was so very ill-prepared for the feeling that I was doing something wrong. That I was responsible for what was happening. At one, my mom and my husband were trying to get in the bathroom because I was crying so hard they were worried about my physical health. But it was the mental state that I couldn't even verbalize because it sounds so awful to say out loud.

It's not a feeling that I would ever wish on anyone. And I'm sorry if my ramblings don't make any sense. I guess I'm telling you all this to also say this: if you've ever gone through this, YOU ARE NEVER ALONE. These feelings are normal. And I wish I could take them from you. I wish so badly that no one ever had to feel them. It's not something people talk about a lot, but it should be. It happens so often, and we just process it and deal with it, usually alone. But I'm always here if you ever need anyone.

And to the little one that I never got to met, who I think was a girl (we would have found out yesterday), Mommy loves you. Forever.

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