January 8

It was the day after my birthday I just turned 39. This was one of the many happiest days of my life, me celebrating my birthday with my unborn baby nestled within. I ate my birthday dinner with my baby in mind. I avoided alcohol & cigarette smoke trying to coming through my car vent when we were waiting at the light, I did so much for a whole month & two weeks because I began to love my baby. Since the moment I found out I conceived about a month ago, I was so full of hope, expectation and I was preparing for so much. This baby was the last one we were planning to have, I was so stoked! I spent so many days trying to tell family members of our good news and of course I had to explain why we were going on our 6th one. Really, there was no perfect explanation that could make some of them truely understand. How do I explain that I feel that there is suppose to be one more person here? Having a big family & taking care of them so well is who I am, it is what I do, my family is my life. I love my family & I love life and want to be surrounded by goodness.

On January 8, I noticed a bright red spotting in my underware, I knew then that I was losing my baby. I was in utter turmoil. I felt my whole existence going out of control. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I was praying this was just some mere spotting that would go away but something deep down told me otherwise. Like a dying person, I was bargaining about the changes I would make if the miscarriage would just stop. But really there is no bargaining, sometimes life does what it does and we take it as it comes with dignity, with passion, as a learning process & make the best of even the unknown. Yes, I am very passionate and even deep when I think about life, but I grieve & I have been through days of tears.

Now it is January 12 and I believe the final process of my miscarriage is happening. I have more heavy bleeding, cramping and bigger clots today. I read that the fetus & placenta will have blood clotting around it and then expell itself.

So far for the last couple of days I have blamed myself, blamed others, blamed that maybe I had bad health, and even thought I was a failure. It even crossed my mind that my body is finally failing me at the age of 39. Am I finally reproductively "spent" and deemed useless?

I read that often why a miscarriage happens is due to chromosomal abnormalities that prevents the zygote from further growing.

Although, I am well aware of all that now, I still can't help but to feel my lost and it doesn't make me feel any better.

We were hoping for a little boy. His name was going to be Jameson. We hadn't thought of a girl's name, but she would have had a real sweet name for being my last daughter.