So there was only one month where I thought I had a baby coming in June... and I spent half of that frightened because the baby wasn't growing right. There were only 2 weeks of looking forward to a third child... but those weeks sure haunt me.
We told Matthew we were expecting. I guess this was a lesson to wait. But we only talked about it for 2 weeks. Once the bad news started coming, we stopped. He never asked any questions. I think he has forgotten all about it.
I don't even know how to answer the question of how far along I was. Based on my last period, I should have been 10 weeks 2 days when I miscarried. But the baby's heart stopped sometime in between 8 weeks 2 days and 9 weeks 2 days, and the poor thing never grew bigger than they should have been at 6 weeks.
This Sunday I would have been 12 weeks along, and we would have shared our news with the world. I planned to slip it into a Christmas photoshoot... The kids would hold a sign that said "We're so cute, they're having another!" Silly that I planned that so early, huh? A cute idea but one I doubt I would want to use in the future. Would you believe at Halloween I even decided I would dress our family as the Aristocats next year? We would have enough kids for it!
It helps a little to write this out in this little quiet corner of the internet.
