At 4 weeks, I found out I was carrying you. We planned how we would tell family, friends, and your big brother. On Friday, two days before being 6 weeks along in our pregnancy, I woke up to blood when I went to the bathroom first thing in the morning.

We rush to the hospital, fearing the worst. I sat in the bed waiting for someone to tell me I was losing you. I'm told the doctor doesn't see tissue which is usually a sign of a miscarriage. A little bit of hope for just a second. Maybe I'm not losing you.

The ultrasound that I was looking forward to on April 7 is now being done to see if I still have you. Laying there while photos are being taken, I just know I am losing you. After the test is over, I get up to go to the bathroom, the bed has blood on it. I just start crying. No one is telling me that I lost you but I know it is happening. Once in the bathroom, I can't stop crying.

As I wait for the escort to take me back down to my emergency room the technician checks if my blood work is back. He tells me it's not back yet. The ultrasound has now been read and I'm still waiting to go back down to the emergency room. I can tell the technician has now changed his demeanor. I know he isn't allowed to say if I lost you. All he keeps saying is "it's still early in the pregnancy". That was his nice way of saying, I lost you.

Back in the patient emergency room, the doctor comes in and tells me that the hcg level is 64. I know then that I had lost you. Now, I have to wait until I go for blood work on Monday to officially know if I lost you.

Leaving the hospital, I fell to the ground, crying, unable to breath. My heart is broken, my body is rejecting you, and I can't do anything about it. After tomorrow, I will know if I lost you.

Tomorrow has turned into today. Today is the day, the day someone will tell me if I lost you. Pulling into the parking lot for blood work, I can't seem to get out of the car. If I get this blood work, I will know for sure if I lost you. All hope will be gone.

I'm sitting in the waiting area to be called back for the hormone test. I look across to the other side of the room and this man is holding ultrasound pictures. He has no idea how precious those pictures are. I wish I could have seen you.

A tear falls down my cheek as my blood is being drawn. This is the moment. This blood will let me know if I lost you. I'm not ready to let you go but I'm ready to know if you are gone so I can grieve you.

And just like that, you are gone. I lost you without even getting to meet you. You will always be a part of my heart.