When I placed my second daughter for open adoption in early 2011, I never thought I’d have to say goodbye to another child. I assumed those emotions had passed, and I had moved on to a happier phase in my life. I’d begun a relationship with my good friend of 17 years, and things seemed to be going very well. He understood me in a way no one else ever had, and it was nice not having to instantly bring up the adoption. He already knew firsthand. He saw how I was in the first years after placement. This gave me a false sense of security as I assumed he’d be the last person on earth to hurt me.

A month later, things started to change. He informed me I was acting completely different, and told me he thought I was pregnant. I told him he was insane and yelled at him for even mentioning it.

A few weeks later, my pregnancy became too obvious to ignore. I had a whirlwind of emotions: from not knowing how I’d be able to afford it, to how Sarah would react to my being pregnant again, and finally just plain sheer joy at having the chance to have a family with my best friend and love of my life

We quickly discovered we couldn’t agree on what to do. While we both agreed we weren’t in the best financial place at the time, I didn’t think I’d be able to emotionally handle placing another child. We spent the next few weeks doing a lot of internal flip-flopping. My brain knew the best thing I could do for the child was to place her with the same couple who was raising my 3-year-old. My heart, however, wanted something quite different. I wanted to be the one to sing this child to sleep and cuddle her whenever I wanted. I wanted to be her mommy and watch my best friend be the amazing father he is to his 12-year-old son.

John Lennon said life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans. You just can’t predict how some things will turn out.

At 3.5 months along, I began to spot, and I knew right then this was not going to end well. My boyfriend was unavailable, so my good buddy Mike dropped everything he was doing to take me to the hospital. I was beyond scared, especially when it came time to do the sonogram. Every time I’ve had an ultrasound before, the technician has been very sweet about showing me the screen and pointing out the baby and its features. This time the technician was coldly silent, and had the screen pointed away from me. Finally, she spoke to me for the first time, telling me I could get dressed now.

When I came back out, she was sitting at the computer typing up her notes. I could see eight pictures of the baby on the screen, but the last one was the only one I could focus on. It had a big red X throughout the picture.

I wanted to die on the spot. It was quite obvious what that meant. She told me the doctor would tell me the results and returned me to my room.

About two hours later, the doctor finally came in. She told me to sit down, and I knew for sure right then. She informed me my baby measured 6.9, and had no heartbeat. Any baby measuring over 5 with no heartbeat is considered inviable. She said I would lose the baby very soon, and I should prepare for that. Let me tell you, after losing one child, there is no way to prepare for losing a second!

In many ways, the miscarriage was harder on me than the adoption. Sarah is a beautiful little diva full of life and love. As hard as it was at times, knowing she’s in this world makes it worth it.

When I lost the baby, though, I didn’t just lose her. I also lost my best friend and the family we had together for a short time. Our loss proved too much to deal with, and we lost everything we had. I haven’t been able to find a resolution from that yet, except that some things perhaps just aren’t meant to be!

RIP Corinne Abigail, I will ALWAYS love you!