That thought rolled around and around in my brain. I said it out loud...I don't think I yelled it, but it was screaming so loud in my head that I thought it would explode. That sound that was supposed to be there...that lovely, beautiful, amazing sound that I had heard so many times before...gone. All there was was silence and the screaming in my head. No! Nooooo! This isn't happening! Please God, I will do ANYTHING! Don't do this to us! Don't take our boy! This isn't happening! Where are YOU? This isn't happening! THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!
How loud silence can be. How deafening it can be to hear nothing but imagined screams in your mind. It's much like turning the car stereo up so loud that it physically hurts your eardrums. You have no choice but to turn it down.
I could almost hear the sound I was SUPPOSED to hear...that lovely little drum beat of his heart. I can imagine it how it sounded just a week and a half earlier. I can still hear it. I remembered the laughter as he wiggled away from the doppler and made my belly into a funny misshapen pyramid. I can hear the wrinkling of the paper on the exam table beneath me. I can see the ceiling tiles I stared at and prayed.
And then...I felt it all slip away and I heard nothing...nothing but the screaming in the silence. This isn't happening!
I did it...I gave birth to you...cry...scream...do something! This isn't happening!
I hoped. I prayed. And it was all for nothing. The silence continued...filled only occasionally by my sobs and my tearful pleas...my baby...my baby...this isn't happening.
But this IS happening...and there's nothing I can do about it but listen to the silence. I replay it in my mind. And the silence in our home is a constant reminder. It hurts...and I can't fill up the silence.