I like to keep this a happy place. I try not to talk about the dark stuff here, because I think there's enough of it in the world already. But three weeks ago, I told you we were expecting a baby, and today I need to tell you that we are not.
The baby I was carrying had a rare chromosome abnormality called triploidy. You can read more about it over here, but what it means is that she had 69 chromosomes instead of the usual 46. It is a deviation considered incompatible with life, and most triploidy babies are lost in early miscarriages in the first trimester. Ours was stillborn at 21 weeks.
It is hard to talk about, but even harder not to talk about. The past two weeks have been full of tears and uncertainty, and a nagging feeling of emptiness. We are still sad, and I have a feeling we'll be overcome with waves of grief for weeks to come. But we're also ready to start the work of moving on. We feel incredibly lucky to have such wonderful, kind, supportive doctors, families, and friends, and to have arrived home from the hospital to find not one but three beautiful trees in our yard, a jar of asparagus soup on our stoop, and a roasted chicken in our fridge.
This has been a terrible week for so many people in Massachusetts. When we were in the worst of it, my sister sent this link from the Onion, and it was a good reminder of how important it is to be able to laugh. So we're here, picking ourselves up. We're counting our blessings—our health, our home, our community, our families—and most of all our sweet little Sal. She is, without a doubt, the person getting us through this.
Thank you for listening, and for being here. It means a lot. Anna will be around later this week—thank you so much for her warm reception!—and I'll be back soon.