I’ve spent a lot of time over the past 10 months processing the trauma of losing Brady. Weekly appointments with a therapist, grief support groups, grief hours, journaling, and, of course, blogging. Losing a child is a horrific, unnatural kind of loss. Even if I you haven’t experienced it yourself, I probably don’t have to tell you this. What I have started to realize is that I haven’t scratched the surface of processing some of the other traumas I’ve experienced. The fact that a significant date is looming, less than 2 months away, is making this all the more clear.
Of course I’d miss it by a day. I’m just not that organized, and I guess I never noted the exact date in my mind. August 8th, 2016 was the day that we found out I was pregnant with Brady. One year and one day ago.
I might not have burned that date into my mind, but I do have a lot of memories of that day. I remember driving home from work, noting that I was out of pregnancy tests and deciding to stop and get some. Tomorrow would be the day that I could take a test after the two-week wait. After the first couple of months of just winging it, we’d gotten strategic this month. The pressure was on.
With everything that happened with my pregnancy with Brady, we had a lot of questions about what future pregnancies would look like, and whether we would be willing to take on the risks associated with any future pregnancies. We had always been hopeful we could find a way to reduce our risks and still be able to have children in the future. I mean, who wouldn’t want to make more babies with this stud?
Sunday started out like any other day, well, besides being on day 4 of our hospitalization. Due to my sassiness the night before, and my hesitation at staying longer in the hospital, Dr. Pates had requested that Dr. Wagner round with me first that morning. Jeff had to leave early that morning to deal with our cable hookup at the new place (#priorities) so my mom had come by to hang out with me.
When we last met up, I talked about heading to the hospital for monitoring since the flow to Brady wasn’t looking good all the time. We’re going to call our little man “Brady” from here on out. In the last week or so of my pregnancy, Jeff and I had started calling him Brady, since we knew that’s what we wanted to name him. Friends had cautioned me against this, just in case he didn’t come out looking like the name. What can I say? I don’t like following the rules! Continue reading “Brady John: Two Days of Monitoring, and Then I’m Out, Right?”
If I’m going to tell our story, and do it justice, I need to start where it all began. Jeff and I knew that we wanted to start a family as soon as possible after we got married in May 2016. After an amazing honeymoon in Jamaica, we came home and “pulled the goalie”.