I think part of me always knew this wasn’t going to happen.

Everything felt different than with the first two. My breasts weren’t tender, my skin was bad, my nausea wasn’t as severe. “Maybe it’s a boy!” My family said helpfully, hopefully. Maybe. But I knew something was off.

We saw Dr. Hirisk for an ultrasound at 6w2d gestation. We saw a sack and fetal pole, but no heartbeat. Dr. Hirisk didn’t want to start me on the blood thinner Lovenox (for my clotting disorder) until he saw a heartbeat. “If you were to miscarry on Lovenox, it could be very dangerous.” He had us make an appointment to come back four days later to look for a heartbeat. The feeling that something was wrong grew stronger.

But then four days later the heartbeat was there and Dr. Hirisk seemed surprised and relieved. He prescribed my blood thinners, and scheduled me to come in six weeks later for the first trimester screen.

“Shouldn’t I come in five weeks from now?” I asked, “I’m seven weeks tomorrow.”

“No…according to the ultrasound the baby is measuring six weeks. You probably ovulated late.” Dr. Hirisk replied.

Except I hadn’t ovulated late. I knew exactly when I’d ovulated: we’d used a digital ovulation kit. But Mike was excited, the doctors were happy. I told myself I was being overly cynical and cautious. I was going to enjoy this pregnancy.

I let myself get caught up in it all. We discussed names, took bets on if the baby would come before or after Thanksgiving, if it would be a boy or another girl.

Two nights before the appointment with my OB, my cousin Leah asked me if this pregnancy felt like my others. Before I could even think I said, “No.”  The sinking feeling I’d had earlier came rushing back. I couldn’t sleep, worried. And then we went to the appointment.

Part of me always knew this wasn’t going to happen…but I just wish that part of me hadn’t been right.

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This about sums up how I feel…except I don’t have a crown.

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Hi Everyone,

Heather had her D&C today, and, as her OB told me in the waiting room after the surgery was finished, all went well. “All went well,” of course, is a relative term in this circumstance, as she was talking about removing what Heather and I hoped was going to be our sweet little baby. It’s best not to think about that sad stuff, though. Instead, I will focus on the positive – that the surgery “went well” without doing any damage to Heather’s insides, and she was able to come home. Oh, and it is over. That is a positive too.

It was a long day at the hospital, which was especially hard when we were there to do something so depressing. When you go to the hospital to do something exciting – like deliver your baby – you are willing to wait for hours and hours because you know at the end there will be a happy ending. Today though there was no happy ending, no carrot to get you through. Just a long, depressing day.

Though things “went well” generally, there were a few hiccups… Heather had a fainting spell, blew out two IVs (likely because of her clotting disorder and being a bit dehydrated from not eating for 24 hours and not drinking for 14), and by the time they finally got one to work she was pretty darn uncomfortable. Later, when she woke up from the anesthesia, she had some trouble breathing and needed oxygen. Luckily the doctors were quick and got that under control. Heather couldn’t stop saying, “thank you for taking care of me,” to everyone that came near her. Apparently that was the last thing she said to the nurses before she was put under, too. She gets very effusive when she’s all drugged out.

Heather is under orders to take it easy for a few days, so her mother, Annie, and I have been playing nurse. She seems in okay spirits, all things considered. I’m hanging in there, too. Still, I am glad that once I hit publish I will be able to go to sleep and leave this day in the past where it belongs.

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I saw my perinatologist today. It’s not Dr. Risky – unfortunately, UCLA and Blue Shield have not worked out their differences. So I have a new peri who shall now be known as Dr. Hirisk. He is great, we really like him. He and an ultrasound tech confirmed what my OB saw yesterday. It’s called a “Missed AB,” or Missed Abortion. It’s where the baby stops developing, but your body has no idea. That explains why I have still been sick, had headaches, and started to show.

Originally the plan was to have a D&C on Monday, in order to give my medications time to leave my system (two different blood thinners). But then I started to spot in the afternoon, so the D&C was moved to tomorrow, Thursday, at 1. If my spotting turns into full-on bleeding, I am to go to the ER for an emergency D&C. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. Dr. Hirisk and my OB don’t want me to bleed at home – the blood thinners make that dangerous – and they want to run chromosomal tests. At this point, we don’t know if this is a “typical” miscarriage or one caused by Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome. The tests will give us the answer.

There is more, so much more, to say, but for now I am wrapping it up so I can deal with these cramps. Annie is my nurse, covering me with a blanket, and she just offered me her Wobble. I am in good hands.

Thank you for all of your amazing comments, emails, tweets, and texts. I’ve said it before, but having all of you support us through the tough times makes things less bleak and lonely. We love you all back.

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I’ve had today circled on my calendar for a couple months. I woke up this morning so excited. I was going to see my baby, and tell everyone that we were expecting again.

But there was no heartbeat. The growth stopped a week and a half ago.

I don’t feel anything. I thought writing it out would help.

But I don’t feel anything.

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When we moved into our house, we got a new land line that I jokingly refer to as the Kathy Line, because Mike’s mom is the only person who ever calls on it. Everyone else calls us directly on our cell phones. This means that whenever our land line rings, Mike answers it, since it’s always for him.

Yesterday our phone rang nine times, and it was only Mike’s mom four times. Just kidding! She actually called twice. Seven calls, all asking for Eric. The first time, Mike told the caller that she had the wrong number. The phone rang immediately after he hung up, and when he answered it the caller “made an angry noise” and hung up.

Me: What’s an angry noise?
Mike: Like a deep sigh, like a HMMPH.

Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. Mike answered, and another woman asked for Eric.

Mike: There’s no Eric here. What number are you trying to reach?
Caller: [our number] Why you playing, Eric? I know it’s you.
Mike: Um…I’m Mike. There’s no Eric here, sorry ma’am.
Caller: Liar!

A few calls like this later and we were both going nuts. When the phone rang for the sixth time, Mike and I looked at each other.

Mike: You get it.
Me: No way!

Annie: HELLO! HELLO PHONE! IT’S GRAMMA! ANNIE SAY HI!

He finally picked up the phone.

Mike: Hi, this is Eric.
Me: !!!!!!!!
Caller: Hey Eric, I had SUCH a good time with you this weekend! Why didn’t you call me?
Mike: OH NO! I was just kidding, I’m not Eric, we’ve just been getting a lot of calls for him and I thought it would be funny to answer as him and you know what, I’m sorry. I’m not Eric.
Caller: Um, what?

Then he hung up.

Me: I can’t believe you did that! What were you thinking?
Mike: I clearly wasn’t.

The phone rang again.

Annie: GRAMMA!
Mike: Heather! You have to answer it!
Me: Dammit Mike!

If there is one thing I really dislike, it’s talking on the phone.

Me: Hello?
Caller: WHAT THE HELL! Where is Eric?!
Me: I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.
Caller: I don’t think so! How do you know Eric?
Me: Um…I think that some guy is giving out our number to a bunch of women. But have a nice day!

After that, we unplugged our phone…which is probably why Mike’s mom only called twice.

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The bizarre thing about the recent Time Magazine cover piece on attachment parenting is that, while the cover was controversial, the actual article was pretty straight forward. In fact, if you read it without having seen the cover, you’d probably wonder what the hullabaloo was about. So what exactly was the problem with the cover? It had a lot to do with the caption, “Are You Mom Enough?,” which angered many who felt it fueled the fires of the media-driven mommy wars. This got me thinking about my fellow dads. Do we pit ourselves against each other as mothers are so often accused of doing? Is there such a thing as daddy wars? The answer, I decided, is yes, but in a very different way than you may think.

I’ve met a lot of fathers like me – men who take great pride in cooking our children’s meals, changing diapers, and giving out comforting hugs – and not once have I heard one of them make a judgmental comment about another father. This isn’t because we are so wonderful and swell, but because we already hear enough negativity about our ability to do the kinds of thing mothers have traditionally done. We see Huggies commercials on TV that present us as buffoonish parents, then take our kids to the store and get asked if we’re babysitting, and it’s disheartening. More men than ever before want to play a primary role in our children’s upbringing (this group includes stay at home dads, single dads, and regular dads who just don’t relate to Ward Cleaver), and we support each other in our efforts.

That’s not to say there isn’t conflict among fathers. If there are daddy wars, and I believe there are, the judgement is coming from dads who want things to stay exactly as they were in past generations. These fathers refuse to do the “women’s work” of taking care of their kids, and think they’ve done enough by bringing home the bacon.

“You got a vagina now?” one such dad asked me when I showed up at a get together with Annie and a diaper bag on my shoulder. Another dad at my old office openly mocked stay at home dads, totally unaware that only a few months earlier I was one myself. These fathers are proud of their inability to do the things mothers do, and don’t like dads who want to change the paradigm.

“So what?” you may be thinking. “Some dudes don’t give you props for wiping your kid’s ass. Get over it.”

Well, okay.  But here’s the thing. Giving men respect as competent fathers who are the equal of mothers is actually really important. Believe it or not all the jokes and condescension are significantly harmful for the future of our country. Did you know that by 2020 more than 60% of the college degrees in America will be earned by women? That means that in the near future there will be far more qualified women in the workplace than men, but if we don’t teach men that being a stay at home dad or their children’s primary caregiver is a commendable role, then guess what? The workplace will be clogged with men who are not nearly as qualified as their female counterparts, and a huge amount of highly qualified women will struggle to find jobs or receive promotions they deserve. The result of this? A higher unemployment rate and a crappy economy.

That’s why it is so important that we support a shift in gender roles. We need to continue fighting for women to earn the equality they deserve in the workplace, and we need to acknowledge that men can be equals in the home. The good news is that a growing group of men are proving to be “dad enough” to be a new and improved kind of dad. Maybe Time Magazine should do an article on that.

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Is there something on my face?

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I had a lovely Mother’s Day.

Mike and Annie brought me presents, my family came over, we had a yummy meal, we went for a walk. I heard, “I love you, Mama” lots.

But I was sad. I was sad and I couldn’t shake it. Earlier I’d looked at Facebook and Instagram, and I’d seen dozens of pictures of gifts my friends had received from their children. Presents their kids had picked out themselves, or even better, crafted and created. And I was so jealous.

Annie is too young to do that stuff. But Maddie wouldn’t have been. She’d be four and a half, plenty old enough to string together a beaded bracelet, or to draw a picture of the two of us, or to paste something together with a glue stick and glitter.

Most days I have no problem looking at what other people have – it almost always makes me smile. But on the harder days, like Mother’s Day, it’s just salt in the wound. I should know better than to look. I shouldn’t ask. But then there’s the other part of me that can’t resist, so I can imagine what I could be experiencing, too. I can’t help myself.

I know next year Annie will start putting together special things for me. I honestly can’t wait. I can’t imagine a better present than something made just for me, by my daughter. Each crayon stroke and glitter speck will be a little window into the way her mind works.

I really did have a lovely Mother’s Day. I feel guilty for feeling so sad. My happiness with Annie is so completely separate from my sadness and longing for Madeline. One cannot touch the other. But still, I feel guilty. And I’m just…glad it’s over.

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She already has a higher batting average than any San Francisco Giant.

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