We got our genetic test results back today. The baby I miscarried was a genetically normal girl.
The nurse I talked to said that there is a very small chance that my DNA could have contaminated the results, but she thinks it’s highly unlikely in this case. She explained why, but I was too out of it to really pay attention.
A part of me wished the baby had been genetically abnormal because then at least I would have known beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was not meant to be.
But she was normal. She should have had a chance. Instead she is just gone.
I want to scream “Why?” at the Universe. I want to kick down trees and bust through clouds and pound my hands on the street. I want to beg and barter. I want, more than anything, for this not to be true. But it is true. We had a little girl. She was normal, she was alive. And now she is gone.
Her name is Anna Adele Best.
Anna is after my paternal grandmother and Tim’s maternal grandmother. Adele is the name of Tim’s paternal grandmother. All those grandmas are in heaven now, if such a place exists, so hopefully they can keep our Anna close and tell her how much she is loved.
The fact that this baby was a girl is hitting me just as hard as the fact that she was genetically normal. I know just what it’s like to love a little girl and it’s pretty much the best thing ever. I know exactly what I’m missing.
It makes me sad for Lettie, too. She could have had sister to share life with, a best friend, a conspirator.
My Anna. Gone from us too soon, but loved beyond measure.
I love you to the sky and back, sweet girl. I hope to someday hold you on the other side.