2015 was a year like any other. I wrote stuff. My husband did engineering-like things. We had a house and two kids. The bills got paid. Life was moving forward per usual. After waiting a few years to have our second child, we decided to try right away for our third and final addition. It happened as soon as I decided Nugget and I were done breastfeeding, and hubby and I were over the moon. The first few months were brutal. I lost 20 pounds in the first trimester. I had never been more sick in my life. Taking care of a 5-year-old and a 7-month old was almost more than I could handle. I wasn’t popping like I had with my other two. It was strange, but somewhere around 17 weeks I was starting to feel like a human again. We looked forward to having our anatomy scan done.
With a history of pre-eclampsia, the midwife referred me to a special hospital where they could easily check the blood flow to the placenta during this regular appointment. Although we weren’t planning on finding out the sex of our little one, seeing the baby in such detail for the first time was still incredibly exciting.
Almost from the moment that little stick thingy hit my belly, the technician was strangely quiet. I felt like something was wrong but desperately tried to convince myself that I was being paranoid. I wasn’t. After an hour of near silence, the doctor came in to speak with us about what they saw. The whole conversation is a bit of a haze now. I remember the doctor telling us that our baby had skeletal dyspepsia. Basically, she was a dwarf. The idea of having a child with special needs was, honestly, a bit terrifying, but my husband squeezed my hand and I knew we could handle whatever was thrown our way.
Then the doctor said the word “lethal”.
The baby’s bones were not growing well. Not only were her arms and legs very short, but her rib cage was too tiny. If she made it long enough to be born full term (and that was a big IF) she would suffocate within hours. Saying that we were devastated is a complete understatement. My husband and I decided to have an abortion; we couldn’t fathom the idea of watching her die slowly. You can read the full story on Scary Mommy.
When it was all over, strangely enough, life kept happening. Our first born started kindergarten and our toddler began to toddle. Thanksgiving came and went. The same with Christmas shortly after. Not a day goes by that we don’t think about that little baby, our little girl. We had decided on names as soon as we learned that we were pregnant, and she was always Violet Selene. As I write about my family’s adventures, she’s the one child of ours you won’t be hearing much about, but that doesn’t mean she is any less a part of us. Everything written on this blog is dedicated to our little angel, our beautiful violet moon.