Well, I went back to work after being off for 13 weeks. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do on this journey of grief.
It was at work where I found out something was wrong with my precious baby. I had a very busy morning, it was around lunch time that I began to notice that my baby wasn't moving. I thought to myself, "I've been running around I need to sit and eat lunch." So, I did. And NOTHING, no movement, no kicks. Then after a few minutes, I mention it to my coworker who is also pregnant. I work at a hospital, so she borrows the doppler from the Adult ED. We go into an empty room and begin to check for fetal heart tones. I tell her to go first, it's there, thump...thump... 140 beats per minute. Now it's my turn, I lay down on the cart and NOTHING. Then I shift around the cart and again nothing. We have another nurse check with us and nothing. As I was laying there on the cart, it did not occur to me that my baby didn't have a heart beat I thought it was due to our old dopplers. I get up from the cart, I'm relatively calm. I walk into the break room and call my OB, her nurse tells me to come into the office. Gosh, I don't think I can continue. I can't do this right now. It's a painful trip down misery lane.
The point is, going back to work was very hard. My body was flooded with all of these memories. And yes, the pregnant coworker was there, 33 weeks pregnant. Just a week more than I was when Ethan died. I look at her and think, "Did I look that big and happy". I just want to be there. I never got to be there, 33 weeks pregnant. No, my bliss abruptly ended with immense heartache and a dead baby. You never think you're going to be there, here in our situation. But, it happens. Everyday. It. Happens.