October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
Ten years ago, I was due on October 7 with our first baby. I read that my baby at six weeks was the size of a sprinkle. It was so early in the pregnancy, we had not picked out a name. We referred to our baby as Sprinkle. We heard Sprinkle’s heartbeat twice. One day, we went in for what we thought would be a routine visit. The tech tried to assure me that it was okay when she could not find a heartbeat using the fetal doppler, but when we did not see Sprinkle’s heart beating on the ultrasound, it felt like my heart also stopped in that moment and just like that, my pregnancy became 1 in 4.
It was not okay.
I was filled with confusion and left feeling guilty. I only discussed my miscarriage with one other person and felt alone in my experience for years. I only carried Sprinkle for 14 weeks — was my pain true heartbreak or just me making a bigger deal of things? For so long, I attempted to ignore my pregnancy loss because my baby only grew to be the size of a peach. Now, a decade later, I think about that baby more than ever and cannot help but wonder who he or she would be. I no longer dismiss my first pregnancy. I lost a baby I never met. A baby I carried in my body for 14 weeks. A baby who will always be a part of me and always be loved.