I Lost My Baby’s Heartbeat

I read a post this morning at My Perfect Breakdown.

It was about memento’s: saving things and marking the dates of our lost babies.

We’ve never given our lost ones names, or done anything commemorative. When you lose several pregnancies each year, it would be kind of crazy to keep up with it all.

What I did have though, tucked away on my iPhone, was a 20 second recording of my baby boy’s heartbeat. It was recorded from a doppler just a few days before he died at 10 weeks 4 days (early for a doppler, I know, but I’m very small and one of the lucky people who actually got to hear it before 12 weeks).

That file has sat on my phone for almost exactly one year, and I’ve listened to it maybe half a dozen times. It has a strong, regular, galloping sound. The sound of life. The sound of my child. That tiny baby I held in the palm of my hand after I miscarried. I always wondered how it could sound so strong one day, and be gone so soon afterwards.

I thought of it after reading the post above, and I went into my phone to find it.

It’s no longer there.

Looking online, it seems that the last upgrade to iOS 8 wipes out voice memo data. Sometimes it is recoverable with software, but I have tried, and mine is gone.

Just disappeared, into nothing.

I am so very, very sad.

I’m not big on sentimentality. I don’t hoard stuff (any more), but I didn’t know that the last time I listened to that sound, would be the last time I listened to it. I wasn’t ready.

It feels like a sign. A sign that everything about this is slipping away from me. That it really is all over and I will never, ever have another child.

Right now, today, I don’t even want to try any more.

I’m too tired of it all. Defeated. Broken down. I surrender. I can’t fight any more because I have no fight left.

And I feel relief. Relief that we actually don’t have to go on doing this to ourselves. Relief that if we stop I will never have to go through another miscarriage.

It’s all just too sad today.

18 thoughts on “I Lost My Baby’s Heartbeat”

  1. OMG I’m so, so sorry that your little heartbeat is gone!!! I would call and freak out on them…technology can be so frustrating and upsetting! I know there isn’t truly anything I can say or do to help your hurting heart, but please know that I’m thinking about you today and hope that you are able to find peace at some point. *hugs*

    • Thank you. Technology does suck – a lot of the time! I’m a computer programmer, so although I have less trouble than many, when technology does fail, it pretty much always fails spectacularly. And it can really hurt when it’s personal data. xxx

  2. I am devistated for you, for no longer having the sound of your little ones heartbeat and for all you have been through. I understand reaching your place of defeat, I recomend not making that final decision today, but giving it a few days and see what you think then. But I will say, the relief thay came along for us when we decided to move on was astounding and i am so greatful for it. I know how hard these emotions can be and im sending you love.

    • Thank you. I know you understand this. And I have so much enjoyed reading your blog, as you rediscover yourself and move on – it truly makes me feel that there is a future out there for all of us to grab with both hands, even if it’s nothing like the future we would have imagined for ourselves.

  3. Oh Rose, I feel sick to my stomach for you. That is just awful, awful, awful. I’m so sorry.

    Maybe it’s not a sign that you are not meant to have another child, though. Maybe it’s a sign that you will soon hear another healthy heartbeat for your next child. This is a weird story and not at all related to your situation, but it made me think of it anyway. The boyfriend I had before Tim (and the only other person I was ever in love with) got me a horse cameo necklace from this teeny store in Florida for my birthday one year. I LOVED that necklace. Absolutely adored it. Shortly after that guy and I broke up, I moved over 1,000 miles away and moved in with my parents. I then proceeded to immediately lose the necklace. I was absolutely devastated. I put up signs in my new neighborhood asking if anyone had seen it. I looked for it, my mom looked for it, but we never found it. I was just crushed. To me, it was a sign that my relationship was really over, and I lost the only memento I had. I cried and cried for days. Fast forward to two years later: I was no longer living with my parents and I had been dating Tim for a few months. It was still early on in our relationship, but I knew he was the one for me. Anyway, the two of us drove out to my parent’s house for dinner one night, and after we finished eating Tim stepped outside to make a phone call. When he came back inside, he said, “Hey, I found this outside.” And in his hand was the mother effing horse cameo necklace! He found it wedged in the pavement right outside my parents’ front door. It’s like it had been hiding there for two years, just waiting for him to come along and find it. What I took away from that experience is that I needed to lose something precious to find something even better. And again, a necklace is nothing like a baby’s heartbeat. Not even close. I wish more than anything that you still had the heartbeat of your little one. It makes me so sad to think of you losing it. But I’m hoping that, just like with my necklace, it means that something more wonderful than you can imagine is on its way.

    • omg!! That is an incredible story – all that time it was right there!!! “I needed to lose something precious to find something even better” I almost cried reading that – I think that must be true, it must be. And you did. And maybe that’s what this is all about. God, I hope so. I felt so angry with myself for not looking after that recording more carefully. For not backing it up. But maybe it did need to go – to make space for something better in the future. Thank you for sharing that with me – it is wonderful x.

  4. This post evoked a roller coaster of emotions for me. I cried. I mean, really cried. Remembering your loss from a year ago….A time when I was feeling so very much of what you are feeling right now. And for as long as I live, I will never, ever forget reading your post when you lost that little baby boy, or how it made me feel. To know that now your heartbeat recording is gone is devastating beyond words. And yet, by the end of your post I felt a sense of real hope. Hope that this heartbreaking journey will not continue to have its insufferable hold on you forever. Much, much love and hugs to you, my dear.

    • Thank you so much. I’m sorry – I wish I had better news for you. I would love to write some happy, exciting posts for you to read. I will – I promise I will at some point. Even if they are just about me being happy, I will write you something better. In some ways, I wonder if it was meant to be. It was meant to signify moving on from that. It’s been almost a year now. Time for something new 🙁 xxx

      • My goodness, do NOT apologize! I didn’t write what I did to make you feel that way. I wrote it to try to show you support and love, and also to let you know I continue to be moved by you, your writing, and your journey. Friends are not here just for the happy times. 🙂

        • Thank you for your kind words. I do desperately want to share some happiness with you though – I think we deserve to share a few more smiles yet 😉 Love and hugs xxx

  5. I’m so sorry your one last memento of your baby boy is no longer in your possession. I’m at a loss for words right now, but am sending you warmth, love, and light during this difficult time.

    • Thank you xxx I cried when I realised what had happened. Then I called my husband and cried more. Just a horrible thing – I really wish I’d backed it up onto my computer.

  6. I am sorry for your feeling of defeat and I hope peace finds you soon. And to lose that recording is devastating. My phone was stolen and I had tons of pics of my son in the nicu that I never transferred to a site and now they are gone, and I’m still pissed.

    • Oh gosh – photos are so precious aren’t they? I’m so sorry you lost those pictures. I would be devastated. In fact, I had a laptop stolen years ago that had months of pictures on it of me backpacking. I have never forgotten about all those beautiful photos that I lost. But to lose them of your baby… it’s just so sad.

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