It's over.

(oh, how I have dreaded ever having to write this post. But here we are).

Little owlet did not make it. He stopped growing at some point between our 8 week u/s and now.

I went for the u/s this morning and when I asked if there was a fetus in there, the response was "I'm not seeing what I should be seeing at 12 weeks". We then did a transvaginal u/s and no words were coming out of the technician's mouth. Only my sobs to fill the room.

Of course, technicians can't tell you anything, because they are not doctors. He said my doctor would be calling later today or tomorrow.

On my way out, I dropped my glass water bottle. It smashed into hundreds of pieces. There were 2 men from housekeeping standing 10 feet from me. They didn't acknowledge me when I walked towards them. When I asked if there was something I could do to help clean up, one of they shoved a broom in my hands and left. I picked up all the pieces and went home.

I did not return to work but went back to Pleasantville instead. Mr. A and I have just been sobbing all afternoon.

My doctor called several times. She is very kind. Even gave me her home number in one of her messages. I did get to talk to her, and she confirmed that this is a miscarriage. She needs to get the u/s report to know what the next steps will be. I guess it will go one of three ways, all of which sound horrid. The worst is yet to come.

I'm not sure how we're going to tell Sattva. We might need to wait until tomorrow. We both are train wrecks at the moment.