Mom to Guarionex A. Guzman (May 30, 2007)
Baby Guzman (August 23, 2007)
Baby Guzman (June 14, 2009)
Corpus Christi, Texas
When I found out I was pregnant, I was shocked. Not because it wasn’t a possibility but I had taken test after test and all had been negative. My heart started to panic but more than that I felt joy. A doctor’s appointment was scheduled and I did all the normal stuff, started picking names, thinking of themes, researching due dates. That excitement would only last 5 days. One day at work I began spotting and I immediately called the doctor. They brushed me off and told me it was normal. As the day progressed the bleeding became heavier and heavier and then the pain started. That’s when they decided this was probably something I should be seen for. The pain was ridiculously insane, I can’t even describe it. At the doctor’s office, I needed to use the restroom and this is where it gets disgusting and sad. My tiny underdeveloped jellybean baby boy hit the water. Everything inside me wanted to scoop him up and I couldn’t. I flushed the toilet. Never knew something as ordinary as flushing the toilet could break my heart so severely. By the time they gave me another pregnancy test, it was already reading negative. They did an ultrasound and nonchalantly said, “yeah, there’s nothing there. it was just a miscarriage.” It was just a miscarriage. It was just a miscarriage. My mind was trying to understand it. The doctor was talking to me but I don’t remember what was said all I could do was nod my head and say “I understand.” My boyfriend (now my husband) and I walked out of the office and got into the elevator. He asked me if I was ok and that’s when I fell apart. I cried for days, I still cry today. My son was 9 weeks old. He had a heartbeat but I never heard it.
Shortly after that I became pregnant again. This miscarriage was very different. It was lengthy and I felt like I was being punished. I was back and forth to the doctor’s office so they could watch my hormone levels and make sure they were increasing as they should be. We never made it to the appointment. It was incredibly rough to go to an emergency room and have them poking you only to tell you what your heart already knows. There’s no heartbeat…and even more gut-wrenching, there’s no baby. Baby was almost 8 weeks.
In 2009, when my daughter turned a year-old we decided to start trying. I became pregnant soon after. Our due date was 4 Feb 2010 and we were so excited. I thought since I had a live birth I was somehow invincible…we beat the odds after all. But like my 2 before, this baby couldn’t stay. We were at a friend’s house and things started to happen. I panicked like all the times before. My heart fell apart like all the times before and once again, my little baby flew away to heaven.
All three were very different experiences physically but they beat me down emotionally just the same. I was convinced I did something to deserve it. I saw my first miscarried child in a dream once. He was in the clouds playing on the beach and I felt a voice (yes felt, there was no audible voice) say, “there is your son.” He had long curly hair and for those few moments my heart knew peace because I saw him and how perfect he was. Every day is hard, I think of them all of the time and I try to figure out what I could have done differently. Maybe I could have been nicer to people, prayed harder, or…I just don’t have a clue and my heart is still broken all these years later. But what helps me get through day after day is remembering the smile I saw in my dream. I know they’re happy, growing, and they’re together in the house of the Lord…and when it’s my time to go, I pray I am finally able to hold them, touch their faces, kiss their foreheads and I know I’ll never have to let them go ever again.