It has been three weeks, and I can finally write about it. After seventeen weeks of being pregnant, I miscarried our little boy. Jeff and I were devastated. I lost a ton of blood, had a D&C, and had to stay overnight in the hospital until my blood pressure was high enough to send me home.
Jake and Maia were sad, but it didn't seem to affect them too much. Jenny didn't really process it. But Lizzy has kept talking about it. Three weeks ago, she said, "Our baby died. But we already have a baby [meaning Hailey, 8 months old]."
I thought that was all she would say. But then last week she said, "Mom, I miss Jesus. I want to see him. Maybe when we see him, he'll give us our baby back." I thought that was cute and told her that she was right--our baby was with Jesus.
Two days ago, she said, "Mom, what's our baby's name that died? I want to name it 'Asher.'" Jeff and I thought that was a good name, so we're going with it.
It's amazing how attached I became to a baby I never knew. But, we love baby Asher and are looking forward to meeting him one day.
