Still, I wanted to be cautious. I contacted 2 of my friends who'd had their own miscarriage journeys and let them know what was going on. I can't even begin to tell you how much it meant to me to hear their stories, know that they'd managed to carry on with life and continue to praise God, and that they were praying over me and Pia meant (and still does) the world to me!
Fast forward to 7/13. All the blogs and prayers just couldn't dull the horrible feeling that we'd lost Pia. Babelicious tried to cheer me up on the way to our appointment. This man, who hates selfies, whipped out his phone and began making a video for Pia. I know he wanted stop my anxiety. I'm generally a super optimistic person so it really bothers him to see me down.
I put on my game face and tried to steel myself for the visit. I prayed literally nonstop from the minute I laid on the table for the ultrasound tech. Once again, silent measuring. Why does this suck so stinking much? I know they (the techs) can't say anything, but the silence is like a dagger in the heart.
The tech didn't bother to do a transvaginal this time. She just told me I could get dressed and she would send another doctor in to talk to me since my ob/gyn was out of the office that day.
We waited six eternities for the doctor to come in (I'm sure it was closer to 20 minutes, but that's what it felt like). I continued to pray during that wait. I just knew that I would melt into a blubbering mess if she came in and told me bad news. Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened. This poor woman, whom I didn't know from Adam, had to come in and explain that my HCG levels were such that the dates weren't off and that we should be seeing a heartbeat. We were not. She, just as my ob/gyn had, explained that there was nothing I did to cause "this", just sometimes errors occur as the chromosomes split and we could try again and blah... blah... I don't freaking wanna hear you, lady... blah.
She then handed me a couple of packets of information and explained, as my ob/gyn had the previous week, the missed miscarriage options: they could perform a D&C, give me pills that would induce me, or I could wait for my body to miscarry naturally. I opted for the later. I'm not delusional, but I just can't bare the thought of taking matters into my own hands knowing that doctors have gotten this wrong for other women. Nope, I may not be super happy about God's choices at the moment, but I do trust His timing.
Needless to say, the ride home was like walking the green mile. Knowing end of life is coming and not having a clue what it'll be like or at what exact moment. I should've been going home with a beautiful clear new ultrasound of a healthy baby and instead I had this cold stark gut punch of literature my hands...
Uggh... Not at all what I wanted. Not at all.
When we got home, I decided it would be best to tell my younger son, since I had no clue when the actual miscarriage would take place. I didn't want him shocked or scared if I suddenly started cramping and/or bleeding. That sweet little man put his arm around me and said "God knows best". As much as I could not and can not understand what is best about losing my Pia, I know it's the truth. Isaiah 55:8-9
The rest of that day was pretty much spent in bed and texting my few friends who knew that it looked like the worst was happening. Again, my friends were amazing and supportive. I really don't know what I would do without their support and prayers.
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