Little G knows about the pregnancy and every night when we go to bed we talk about when the baby comes and what stage of development that we are at. Tonight she was full of the same kinds of questions and I tried to put on a brave face. We don't want to tell her anything until we know for sure, but the questions are like little shards of glass piercing my heart. So I told her that the baby is very sick and that I have an appointment next week with the doctor next week to see if the baby is going to be ok. I told her that there isn't a lot that we can do for the baby right now and that it might die.
She knows about death because our dog died last year.
It is so hard. We feel so stupid having told her this early...having told everyone this early. But, everything seemed to have lined up so perfectly that we felt confident.
And, then there is the hope. Raising its ugly, unwanted head. Whispering in my ear that maybe everything will be ok. Maybe by next week there will be more growth that things will have worked themselves out. Stupid.
This morning walking back from Gigi's school I almost threw up. So am I just imagining things? Oh, and for good measure, I took a pregnancy test today. The line was there the moment the pee hit it. If the baby stopped growing two weeks ago shouldn't it have taken some time for the line to show?