This was the post I wrote hours after finding out that we lost our second daughter in August 2016. A year later, almost to the day, we would get the positive pregnancy test that would bring us our rainbow baby.

First of all, we lost the baby.  I hate that I have to write another blog post about loss, but it’s my form of communication and therapy all rolled into one.

I’ve been anxious ever since our last MFM appointment (MFM is the high-risk doctor that you see after you deal with a loss like ours).  The weight of the baby was in the 22nd percentile which called for an extra check up (which would have been this Friday).  I wasn’t as sure about the baby moving, but I felt some round ligament pain so I thought it was just my nerves making things up that weren’t there.

But my anxiety got the best of me today, and I called the OB that was on call today, who happened to be the OB I’ve been seeing through most of this pregnancy (our clinic has 4 OBs that rotate, and I love all of them).  She suggested going to the hospital and getting an ultrasound.  She called ahead to let them know I was coming.  So, my husband and I got in the car and headed to the hospital.

We were led into a room and the monitors came out, along with our worst fears.  No heartbeat.  They got a doppler in hopes that maybe it was just a squirmy baby.  No heartbeat.  The girl who helped us was super sweet and optimistic.  I really appreciated her.  Then our doctor came in with the ultrasound.  No heartbeat.

Apparently, the problem is that the placenta just stops working.  They don’t know why.  But it’s the closest explanation for both losses.  This will still be an unexplained fetal death.  And any pregnancy after this one will result in weekly ultrasound visits.

I had my “Jesus conversation” there in the hospital when Michael stepped out to make some calls.  It was different this time.  I mean, it had a lot of the same elements – confusion, mourning, shock.  But I felt stronger somehow.  Like God was already propping me up in that hospital bed.  I could cry without collapsing.  I could look directly at my fear and the unknown and embrace it.  That’s when I realized that this is what being blessed by God is all about.  It’s about looking the Devil in the face and saying, “I’m not going to give up on my faith.  I am stubbornly in love with the God of creation.”

So, sometime this week, we will again go to the hospital, deliver, and come home without a child.  I know that a lot of you have been praying for this baby, just as you prayed for my last daughter.  Please continue praying for Michael and me as we navigate the next week and the next several months.  I know this journey.  I’ve walked it before.  It’s going to be hard and chaotic, but I also know there will be moments of peace as well.