It was the perfect birthday gift.

After having a nice romantic dinner at Bonifacio High Street, I gave my husband a little dark gray box with a nice bow…

He looked at it and smiled, “So, we can now call our mommies and tell them that they’ll be grandparents.”

We have started trying for a baby since November after I stopped taking my birth control pills. Our respective parents had been slightly pressuring us for an apo (grandchild).

I haven’t had my period since mid-November, and yes I am a regular bleeder so it can only mean one thing. A trip to Watson’s again confirmed my suspicion, we were going to be parents!

Honestly, after I saw the results of the pregnancy test, I became afraid and nervous. Would I be a good mother? How can I raise good children? Where will I get the time?

But at the same time, I was happy and excited. Excited in such a way that a baby would be the perfect gift in our happy union. Happy because I can finally make my lovely mom a grandmother, a role she’s been jealously pining for years!

What’s more, I knew that my husband can be a good father. I’ve seen him with babies and it would be great if he can finally have one of its own.

“I don’t think our kid would be that pretty or handsome, but he/she would sure be smart!” I teased him.

I gave him his gift last Wednesday.

And it was great to see us adjust to the prospect of parenthood.

My husband started talking to my still invisible baby bump, touching the place where the baby would be staying for another 8 months.

We started talking about the baby, on who will take care of it and how our schedule would be.

We were excited to tell our folks, deciding to inform them of the good news this weekend when they take us to my husband’s birthday dinner.

Alas, just yesterday, I started spotting.

Spotting was NOT a good sign.

I called up hubby immediately, “Let’s not tell our folks yet that I’m pregnant. I have bad news: I’m spotting.”

He paused for awhile. “What do you mean spotting?”

“I’m sure it’s not that serious,” I said. “But I am bleeding lightly. Let me google.”

A bit of googling showed that spotting is usual to 20% of women in their first trimester. According to the doctor, I am around 3-4 weeks pregnant. So that seems about right.

I called my husband back, “It’s okay, I think the Internet did say that some spotting is normal.”

“That’s a relief,” he said.

That evening however, the spotting became much worse, and the blood came out stronger. It was a much heavier flow, similar to my regular menstruation but worse.

“I think we lost the baby,” I sadly told my husband.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Not yet, but I think if it doesn’t stop, I may have had a miscarriage.”

There is no real reason why miscarriages happen, although it usually happens on the first trimester. Up to 25% of recognized pregnancy ends in miscarriage.

Today, the flow is stronger as if I am on my second day of my period. There is some discharge and my lower abdomen hurt. I also needed to lie down.

In the end of the day, I came to the conclusion that if I was ever pregnant, there is no doubt that I am no longer pregnant.

“Give me a hug,” I asked my husband. “I need to be consoled.”

Having no maternal instincts whatsoever, I am still surprised to experience that sense of loss of losing what could’ve been our little bean. While I was not entirely excited about being pregnant, it’s still a new beginning for us. And heck, maybe it’s a good time for us to be parents! I’m turning 35 this year after all.

“Don’t worry,” husband said. “I can pork you again. Maybe this baby has some defect or something. Maybe it’s not meant to be this time.”

Maybe we are lucky. Maybe we would’ve lost him/her anyway through the process of the pregnancy. It could’ve been worse. We could’ve told our parents the exciting news only to pop their bubble later on. Maybe the kid would’ve had a defect, and an early pregnancy termination through God’s hands would’ve spared us from unnecessary grief.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But I am still a bit sad. Despite consoling myself of the maybe’s, I wonder what could’ve been.

And sad that we had a few days of hope, and now, a day of loss.

I feel sad for the Little Bean that now wasn’t.

So now I feel for those who were pregnant, and then wasn’t.

Cause now I can count myself as one of them.

And yes, it’s one of the sadder things that could happen to a woman.

I know this now.