Stretchy

I packed mostly dresses and tights. These were the only things that were stretchy enough to accomodate my postpartum baby fat and nursing my 9 month old son. I'm certain I looked pregnant to people. I didn't care. I tried to look pretty. Feel pretty. 

All I wanted was more sleep and for my mom to get better. But I didn't get either.  

I also packed a black dress, again, just in case this time was going to be it. And it was. 

FOR JULIEN

For-Julien A year ago I was 12 weeks pregnant and on June 28th, 2013 we found out our baby had died.

It was our first ultrasound and we were so excited. I had daydreamed what this day would be like - we would hold hands while the nurse smeared cold jelly on my belly and found a view and heartbeat of our baby, we would call our family immediately afterwords and send them a picture of our baby, we would carry around the ultrasound picture and show everyone we knew our baby, I'd share it on Facebook, my blog, everywhere with so much love and joy that we were pregnant. It was going to be beautiful. We even had our names picked out: Julien Augustine Bullock for a boy, Isabella Rose Bullock for a girl.

As I laid on the hospital bed and we looked at the black screen waiting for movement or a heartbeat we held hands and smiled with excitement. After a few minutes of nothing and staring at the giant black, empty screen we began to sense something might be wrong.

With grace the nurse said she'd like to perform an internal ultrasound. Without explanation why, we agreed and moved forward with our eyes glued to the biggest and blackest screen in the world.

A few moments passed and finally we see a tiny white blob in a sea of black. The nurse looks accomplished and used some digital tools to measure the white spot. She begins to speak about what we we're looking at.

She said the baby stopped developing at 6 weeks.

To be honest, everything after that very sentence was a blur. My husband clenched my hand and looked at me with the saddest look I'd ever seen. I knew something was wrong.

- - -

In memory of my unborn son, to whom I feel his presence everyday, I share with you a piece of our story. Since the day I found out we had a missed miscarriage - the day that will change my life forever - I've discovered the most healing thing I can do for myself and life-giving thing I can do for my unborn son is to share my story with as many people as I can. This is the beginning of my memoir for Julien.