I went yesterday for my ob-gyn appt and u/s. Baby B died. Probably right after my last u/s. It was only measuring 11 weeks. Baby A looks good,moving, yawning and hiccuping. The u/s tech thinks she is a girl.
I'm trying to focus on the good in this. But I feel so sad and weepy. I stare at the pictures they gave me of her, but all I see in my mind is Baby B on the screen, so, so small.
I knew right away what had happened. When she turned the u/s on, you could see Baby A, big and moving, and a small baby shaped blob next to it. She didnt say anything, just did baby A's measurements, then said she needed the doctor to come in and look at something. When they came in, the u/s tech measured for cardiac motion. I will never forget that blank screen.
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Donor embryos can work!!
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
1 comment:
I am so so sorry... hope you're doing ok. I've been checking back since you wrote this post. Praying for your family.
http://btw-wedidnotjustrelax.blogspot.com
Michele
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