On October 28, 2019, my husband and I lost our baby. I was nearly 12 weeks pregnant with Marin Li. This post is dedicated to the beautiful baby who brought me such joy, and whom I loved so much for the three months that I was allowed to be a mother to this angel.
This was our second pregnancy, one that was so long awaited and wanted. From the beginning there were many ups and downs. At our first ob appointment the doctor couldn’t find a fetal pole, and there were talks of an anembryonic pregnancy which would lead to a miscarriage. Three weeks of anxious waiting followed, in which every twinge in my stomach made me worried and I went down the Google rabbit hole during the many sleepless nights. At the second ob appointment, we were overjoyed to find a heartbeat.
In the weeks that followed, rough morning sickness was in a way comforting, because that signaled to me that my baby was growing. When the morning sickness stopped almost overnight I chalked it up to nearing the end of the first trimester. Any creeping doubts and worries about why it just stopped altogether, I forcefully pushed it out of my head. I went on with my days, working and taking care of our 3 year old toddler. I secretly started planning the nursery layout, assessing baby supplies, and researching options for how to accommodate for two children. We bought a second car. My bump started growing and I shared the good news with people. We decided on a name, Marin, which meant “from the sea” and was also a mashup of our names.
I woke up around 5 am to go to the restroom on October 28 and saw a little spotting. Immediate call to the after hours line followed. The doctor on call didn’t think it was too severe, and since I had an ultrasound scheduled three days later, suggested I wait until then. I insisted on seeing my doctor that day. She begrudgingly agreed.
Our ob didn’t seem too concerned, until she couldn’t hear the heartbeat with the Doppler. She then switched to an abdominal ultrasound, and finally a vaginal ultrasound, her frown getting deeper and deeper. Finally she said gently to us, “I don’t see a heartbeat.”
We were sent for a more detailed ultrasound at a diagnostics facility ten minutes away. Our ob truly wanted to be proven wrong, and sent us for the second opinion in the hopes that she had made a mistake. I was hoping against all hopes that she was wrong too. The second ultrasound also showed no cardiac activity and the doctor there gave us the definitive diagnosis that the pregnancy was no longer viable. The news hit us hard, and I was overwhelmed by guilt. I asked her whether it was something I did, something I could have done to prevent it. Her blunt answer was in a weird way, comforting. “There’s nothing you could have done to make this happen even if you tried.”
I’ve had my d&c and am starting the process to physically and mentally heal. I’m grateful for my faith — I may not understand now, but I trust that God has a plan for our family and this was just not our time. He will provide what is best for us, I just have to accept and obey. I’m not sure if I’m still in shock and haven’t processed, or I have already accepted. I am grieving. I will always think about the beautiful, sweet angel who came to us so briefly and brought such joy and happiness. Our doctor tells us that based on the ultrasound, there were some physical indications that suggest a chromosomal abnormality and that’s why the body chose to end the pregnancy. I’d like to think that my angel didn’t want to burden his/her parents and sister, and that our baby is now free from any pain in life.
I will always wonder what kind of person Marin would have been. Would he have been as funny or exasperatingly stubborn as his parents? Would she have been as free spirited and sunny as her sister? What would she look like? Would he be tall or short? I’ll never know in this life, but I know that as soon as I meet Marin in Heaven I will know my child by sight, and we will be together again in eternity.
Marin is now with God, our family and friends who have passed before us, and our beloved fur babies Bobby and Butters. I do not worry that the angel is lonely. There will always be love in my heart for the child who never was, and we will always remember and love our baby.
Not a goodbye my sweet child, just a brief time before we are reunited again. Mommy and Daddy and your sister love you always. You will forever be in our lives. We love you, Marin Li.
