From 4 to 5 to 7: Gone.

It has been a while since I’ve posted. Since Mother’s Day in fact. Yet, truth be told, I’ve been writing quite a bit. Only I haven’t hit publish on a single one. You see, I was waiting for the right time to “come out.” After our previous 4 losses, to start a thread on pregnancy after loss. And as it turns out, that time has come and gone, and at this point, I don’t know if those posts will ever hit the public.

In short, we found out we were pregnant back on June 12. Found out it was triplets on June 27. Found out we lost Baby A on Aug. 2 at 11 weeks. So there we were, now having lost 5 babies (5!?!), and yet this time, we still had twins with us. And so we grieved, but still had hope for our Babies B and C. Quite a weird place to be to say the least.

On we went with weekly ultrasound appointments with our amazing “I am tremendously skilled at what I do AND am actually caring about your needs” new doctor, the head of maternal fetal medicine, and his equally amazing team of “we actually know who you are and truly care about you” nurses. These weekly reassurances got us through a lot—a little spotting, some mixed genetic results, unreasonable panics, many peace of mind checks, ridiculous questions, and past the 16w6d mark that we lost our previous little girl. The continued support of our therapist had our mental health in check and enabled us to stay as sane as possible, and I use the word sane loosely. We had finally found the support and the team that we needed. And we were cautiously optimistic that we’d get to spend the rest of our lives with our little girl and boy (All previous times we said we didn’t want to find out. What better a surprise? But this time, we were all about finding out. Thinking that the surprise would be them arriving healthy and safely. We needed to know).

The anatomy scan brought questionable results due to an echogenic bowel on Baby C, but an Amnio gave us the healthy report we needed to finally come out to our family, friends and coworkers. Silly us, we thought at 20 weeks, with healthy genetic results, we were in a safer zone. Of course, we knew there was still a lot of time left and things could still happen, but we were finally able to embrace the fact that twins were really a possibility. That maybe someone was trying to make up for all of our past losses and hurt. That our dream of a family was finally going to come to fruition. And then Monday happened.

Long story short, I called the nurses to figure out if the semi-uncomfortable feeling I had in my belly was just due to the growth of the twins, or something else. After going through the nurses checklist, it appeared it was OK. But it continued throughout the afternoon, and by Monday night, I had convinced myself that I should call the on-call MFM doc and we should go into OB triage to make sure. An intense lower belly pain pushed us to go in before we ever got a call back. And another one put me in a wheelchair in the parking garage.

A quick check showed that those pains were, in fact, contractions and that I was already dilated 2cm. It was only 20w5d. “It doesn’t look good,” said the OB doctor on call. We were admitted and sent upstairs where we met with the MFM doc who reiterated the diagnosis and prognosis. We started praying for a miracle and were grasping on every story we had heard of positive outcomes. The UK woman who stayed upside down for months to save her baby. Our friend’s sister whose water broke with twins at 22 weeks, but was still hanging on at 32. Yet those prayers went unanswered.

The contractions continued throughout the night and morning hours, and an afternoon check of my cervix showed I was 7cm and that our baby girl was already well on her way. We pleaded for ways to save her, and if we couldn’t do that for any chance of saving our son. Sadly, there was no hope for either of them. For any of us.

After an awfully painful labor and delivery, complete with an epidural that kicked in one baby too late, our twins were here. Some 19-1/2 weeks early. With nothing we could do from stopping their arrival. And outside of their color, they were perfect and beautiful. He had Double A’s mouth. And she had the sweetest little face. They both had the tiniest knitted hats and the nurse handed them to me with the utmost of care. We decided to name them, but I’m not sure I’m ready to share here. I held them and hugged them, and held their hands. I kissed them and told them how much we loved them and how sorry I was that we’d never be able to experience life together. And Double A and I cried, no wailed, that we had lost more babies. We were surrounded by our parents and the MFM doctors and nurses who all shared in our grief, wanting to take away the hurt. Yet we all felt it and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

We are heartbroken, devastated, numb and in shock. Angry and bitter and raw. And perhaps most saddened by the fact that this may just be the last time. Our dream may be over. For at this point, it is unimaginable that we could do this again, for this is the only outcome we ever know. It doesn’t make sense, and it isn’t fair. But to say it isn’t fair means that there’s something/someone regulating justice, and that just doesn’t seem possible right now. And while I know there are many out there who will try to convince us otherwise, please don’t. When you take 5 pregnancies, 7 babies, 3 deliveries, 5 miscarriages, 2 stillborn and 0 at home with us, it just doesn’t add up. And it never will.


40 thoughts on “From 4 to 5 to 7: Gone.

  1. I’m in tears from reading this. I have no words to begin expressing how sorry I am. I wish I knew exactly what to do to help ease your pain during this time. Please know that you, A and your family are in my thoughts today. Sending love and light.

  2. I found you through Cristy’s blog and wanted to stop by to give my condolences to you and your husband. I can’t imagine what you are going through right now and I also know that there are NO words that could even ease your pain. I am so very sorry that this happened to you.

  3. There are no words I – a complete stranger to you – can say to make this remotely better. For what it’s worth though, you have one reader in Boston who is very much hurting for you and mourning your losses and waving my fists at the universe. No one should have to feel that much pain.

  4. In tears for your losses. We have lost 5 babies in a row. Thank you for sharing your story, for reaching out, for expressing your feelings…numb, devastated, bitter, raw, angry…you described how I feel. You are not alone. And I can also relate to not being able to go through it again – not that we don’t want a successful pregnancy with all our hearts, but that it’s just too much pain to bear again. Hugs, love, and hope for peace in your hearts being sent your way.

  5. I agree with you that no one/nothing is regulating justice, deciding who gets to take babies home and who doesn’t.

    I am so sorry that you are going through this yet again. I am thinking of you and sending healing thoughts your way.

  6. Oh my god. I don’t know what to say. I just held my breath reading all of that. A – I am so unbelievably sorry this has happened to you. I am hoping with all my heart you have the support and love you need right now.

  7. Another blogger I read sent me over here. I am in tears and so sorry for your losses. You, your husband, and all of your babies are in my thoughts and prayers.

  8. I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. I am sorry. It shouldn’t be this way. Hoping that you and your husband find peace during this painful time.

  9. I’m here from Cristy’s blog – I know there are no words that can take away your pain and anguish. Know you, your husband, and your children are all in my thoughts are prayers.

  10. I found your blog through another blog that I follow (Searching for Our Silver Lining). My heart just aches hearing about the loss of your 3 babies. Words can’t even express how truly sorry I am. Praying that you have the strength to get through this.

  11. Know that there are people that love you and are there for you as you grieve. I’m so sorry – your math does not add up…and it just makes no sense what you went through for so long. I will keep you in my prayers and hope you find some peace.

  12. I am so sorry for your losses. I’m totally in tears as I was reading through your post. It’s so unfair and to feel so helpless knowing there was nothing you could do. My heart is breaking for you. I know nothing anyone can say to help you feel better, but I just want you to know that I wish you the strength to heal and move on one day.

  13. I just lost triplets 4 months ago at 22 weeks 6 days and just wanted to reach out and send you lots and lots of virtual hugs. Saying I’m sorry sounds so pointless, but I really am sorry. While you have been through way more than I have, I too know the pain of delivering too early and having to say goodbye to your babies, something that is just too heartbreaking for words. I hope you are able to get through all of the very difficult days to come. I will continue to keep you, and all of your babies, in my thoughts and prayers.

  14. I am new to your blog, but I wanted to send big hugs your way. I had a similar experience with my sweet twins. Just wanted to let you know that you and your babies are in my thoughts and prayers today. I am so so sorry that life can be so unfair & cruel.

  15. Oh god…I’m just so heartbroken for you both. So much loss and heartache. The only birth I’ve known so far was also one of loss and tears. I lost my boy/girl twins at 20 weeks almost exactly one year ago. It was the single hardest and most devastating thing I can imagine. I relate to your story and feel your overwhelming pain. There isn’t much I can offer in the way of words, but I can tell you to stay strong and know you will get through this. To have survived all you have already, you have to be two insanely brave people. My thoughts and heart are with you as you find your way through this.
    I’m so sorry.

  16. I am so incredibly sorry for your losses. This world is so cruel and unjust. I simply can not even begin to imagine your pain. You and your family are in my thoughts. This shouldn’t happen.

  17. Reading this brought me to tears… I can’t believe this happened to you and your family… Please know how deeply sorry I am for your losses. Your family is in my thoughts xox

  18. I’m so so sorry for your devastating losses. I’m here from Cristy’s blog. I truly hope you have all the support and love around in this difficult time. There are no words that can take away the pain, it just seems so unfair.

  19. I’m here from Cristy’s blog. There is no cap to the amount of cruel that this world has to offer. Your pain and your children have touched me in my core. Holding you all in my heart. .

  20. Erin, I’m so sorry I missed these posts until now. I’ve read them over and over through tears, not wanting to believe it to be true, just to somehow not be true. I am heartbroken by this devastating loss, I’m just so sorry. I wish there was more to say, I’m just so incredibly sad and sorry for you and Aaron and all your lost children.

  21. Erin, oh my gosh. I’m so sorry I didn’t see this until today. It’s so not fair that you and Aaron have to go through this. I’m so incredibly sorry. Sending you much love ❤

  22. All I can say is I am so sorry. So very sorry. I know how it feels to be blind sided by loss when you have and excitement and happiness.

    I went to the hospital to birth my boy at full term. I ended up leaving with empty arms after a difficult labour and resuscitation left him deprived of oxygen for too long. He died at 3 days old.

    Thinking of you both. It isn’t fair (who knows if there is judge and jury like you say).

    Lots of love,

  23. I am so sad for you both. I have had 5 losses, one at nearly 23 weeks…and it is never easy. I know that the days ahead are going to be hard but know that there is an incredible net of support out here for you when you feel the need to vent and share. One day at a time. Thinking of you during this difficult time. Sending you peace in the coming days and months ahead.

  24. I have just been reading through your blog after seeing your link on loss through the looking glass. My story is on there too. I lost my twins as well- at about the same time as yours so I was moved to comment and send you a huge hug!!! They were born totally out of the blue at 24 weeks at the start of October after my cervix dillated suddenly and without warning. They were born alive and gorgeous but died when they were 6 days old due to commplications of their permaturity. Anyway I know nothing I can do or say will make you feel any better but I’m thinking of your Sarah and Benjamin and My Matthew and Oliver especially now as the time they should have arrives draws closer.

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