Empty

Nina Miller
Jun 16, 2016 · 2 min read

On Wednesday we went in for the second ultrasound of our second pregnancy. I was nervous and skittish. I had a hard time connecting with this pregnancy, which I figured was my heart being a bit overprotective of itself since I had lost the first pregnancy in September. The first one ended some time after we saw a heartbeat, which is not that common. I knew any pregnancy after that loss would have no “safe” point for me, and anxiety was just a fact of life that I would have to manage. I tried to tell myself throughout this pregnancy that I was probably growing a little embryo, but I was never really convinced. I checked repeatedly throughout each day for bleeding. I basically felt like I was waiting to miscarry again, an extension of the 9 days after I was diagnosed with a missed miscarriage in September. I was hostile when loved ones tried to reassure me.

Whatever little glimmer or connection I felt with the first one wasn’t there. Often in a pregnancy after loss, mothers are in a “prove it” mode, so I guessed that’s what was happening. I was looking forward to this scan in the 9th week so I could have an image in my mind that I could connect with.

What was found in the ultrasound was an empty gestational sac measuring at about 5 weeks. Anembryonic is what it’s called. I’m pretty numb at the moment. I don’t know what this means for my husband and I and our wish to be parents. I do know my body really knows how to commit to a bit, you guys.

This week started with crying with the world, and I’m actually feeling guilty about crying for myself when there is so much violence and pain in the universe. I’m worried about triggering those that have had losses or fertility issues. I’m worried that someone is going to try to fix me with words that end up hurting more. I’m worried that people are going to be weird about it and it will be my job to make things feel normal. I know that these things aren’t discussed at length outside forums of strangers that use phrases like “Angel Baby” and “baby dust” so finding a place of solace I feel at home in can be hard.

Instead of a Christmas angel ornament in memory of our first loss, I was more comfortable with the idea of a little ghost.

I’m not sure how to grieve this particular emptiness, it feels so different than losing someone that you saw flicker with life and felt in your heart. But I know from last year that I shouldn’t try to do it alone.

Nina Miller

Written by

I perform improv and I design things. I'm a J away from being an invisible assasin. Don’t be a sleemo.

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