I will apologize before you even begin reading... this is a wordy post, sans pictures. Chris and I talked about whether or not to share this. I know this kind of thing is what you keep to yourself, but I really need to share, not for anyone who might stumble across this post, but, as many of my posts, for me, as writing helps me sort out my own feelings and my own emotions.
That being said....
On my 25th birthday this year, I took a home pregnancy test, and it was positive.
Chris was SO excited! I don't think he had ever been happier. I wasn't so sure about having a baby so soon in our relationship was a good thing, but I knew it was what it was. I called my doctor on Monday and set up an appointment. The next day (Tuesday) I was supposed to get my final X-ray on my broken arm I had sustained six weeks earlier, however, they will not X-ray a woman who is pregnant unless it is a life threatening situation. Instead, I just got my cast removed and was told to take it easy for the next couple weeks because I could easily refracture my arm, especially because we didn't know exactly how my arm had healed or if it had healed at all.
This was kind of hard to explain to people, because I didn't want to tell them about the baby yet, but when I would get pointed questions about my X-ray on my arm, I felt like I had to flat-out lie.
It was even more difficult, because the week we found out I was pregnant, was the week we went to Indiana with Chris's family. I wasn't feeling great at all, and even BEGGED Chris to not make me go, but he said I had to go, because what was going to be our excuse? We had someone to watch the house and feed the animals and check on the cows, and I was on summer break, so there was no logical reason why I shouldn't go (that we were willing to tell anyway.) I went to Indiana, and it was somewhat miserable of a time, but I tried to mask it as best I could, which I'm pretty sure I failed miserably.
The next couple weeks are a blur, as I tried my hardest to muster any kind of energy to do much of anything, and I had to go back to school.
My first OB appointment was very anticlimactic, they basically went over healthy pregnancy expectations, checked me (GAG), and ordered blood work and an ultrasound. We couldn't get an ultrasound until the next Friday, and Chris was so disappointed. He wanted to see his baby right away, and a week seemed really far away.
So what felt like an eternity, we had our ultrasound the next week at 4:30 on Friday afternoon before a three-day weekend (Labor Day). I felt like all the worker wanted was to get out of there and start her weekend. Looking at the ultrasound we could see a tiny little something, but we didn't know what was going on, and then she just got up and left us sitting there in the room. I looked at Chris with such confusion, but he didn't have a clue what was going on either. About twenty minutes later she came back in and told us we could go.
On our drive home I got a phone call from my doctor saying that there was no heartbeat on our baby, and that it looked like it had stopped growing at 6 weeks (I should have been around 10 weeks). He told me we could do another ultrasound (after my explaining the horrible treatment we had received),
and to call Tuesday morning and get it scheduled.
I went home so very upset. After finding out we were going to have a baby, I warmed up to the idea and got so very excited; I started looking at cribs and little baby outfits and accepted we were going to have a baby sooner than I had so foolishly planned. And while I was in the midst of excitement, I was told "PSYCH! Just kidding, you don't get to have a baby!" So for the next week, I tried to remain positive and hopeful, but I knew deep down that we had lost the baby.
The next ultrasound was very similar to the first. But this time, we didn't even see a tiny little something.
My doctor called me on Monday and said that this was not going to be a viable pregnancy, and then we talked about my options. I had an OB appointment scheduled the following week, so we decided to keep that so we could do a D&C, because it had already been five weeks since the baby had
stopped growing. Chris really didn't want me to do the D&C, he felt like I should let my body miscarry naturally, but I had no symptoms of miscarriage up to that point and I really didn't know what to do.
I started running. I started doing the heavy lifting chores. I figured maybe if I did things that pregnant women aren't supposed to do, I would make my body miscarry on its own. That weekend I had slight cramping and then some very light, discolored spotting. I called and cancelled my appointment, explaining that I had what I thought to be symptoms of miscarriage and I was going to let my body do it naturally.
For the next two weeks, I had the same discolored, light spotting and then it went away. I took a pregnancy test, and it was positive, so I googled this, and found this was normal, and that it takes a while for your body to get rid of all the hormones. I was a mess. I hadn't been myself since I was told I had lost the baby. I didn't cook dinner, I didn't clean, I wasn't doing laundry. Chris was extraordinary during this time. He just stepped up and did more and more as I did less and less and never said a word about any of it. I think he didn't know what to say or do to make me feel better.
So I went about my life thinking I had a miscarriage and started waiting for my period which I hadn't had since June. Sometime in the middle of October (right before Chris's parents came to visit) I took another pregnancy test, and it still showed positive. I freaked out. But Chris didn't want me to go to the doctor while his parents were here, so I waited another two weeks. I took another pregnancy test, which was positive. I called the doctor and had another hellish week of agonizing waiting and trying to get answers. I went to the hospital three times to get blood drawn, and they scheduled me for another ultrasound, which I ended up cancelling (details aren't really important as to why, but I didn't want to have to pay for another ultrasound when we knew it wasn't a new pregnancy.)
It was determined that my body really wanted to be pregnant, and wasn't expelling this pregnancy, which ended up actually making me really sick. So another D&C was scheduled.
I had more blood drawn, and another phone call that made this nightmare feel even longer. The day after I had blood drawn (apparently when you have a scheduled procedure, they draw blood so it is easier to match??? no one really explained anything to me) the pre-op nurse called and explained they found an anti-body in my blood, which they check for with all pregnancies, regardless of whether or not they are viable. So she told me to come in AGAIN to draw blood, because it has to be drawn within 72 hours of your procedure.
Being the person I am, I of course googled "antibody during pregnancy" and FREAKED out even more. I started bawling and texted Chris because I was never going to be able to have a baby again, because my body would always attack the baby and kill it.
When I went to get my blood drawn on Sunday after church, I asked the lady who was drawing my blood why I needed to come back in, and asked her exactly what antibody I had and what that meant. Well, turns out the nurse had misinformed me when she told me why I had to get blood drawn again. I do NOT have an antibody that will kill another pregnancy, but blood draws for people who have had blood transfusions or pregnancies are only good for 72 hours.
Finally, yesterday, 22 weeks into my pregnancy, Chris and I checked into the hospital at 6:15am to get my D&C. I felt at peace and knew that this was what I needed to do. At 7:30, after answering the same questions 10,000 times, they finally took me to the operating room.
An hour later, I was coming out of my anesthesia, and people kept trying to ask me questions. I wasn't coherent enough to answer, but apparently, all I did was ask for Chris, so the nurse went and got him, before the doctor even debriefed him on the procedure. I still wasn't even very alert or aware of what was happening, I just knew that Chris was by my side and holding my hand. When I finally came to, the nurse asked me if I wanted anything. "Dr. Pepper" was the first thing out of my mouth and Chris started laughing and kissed my forward. At that point, I knew all was right with the world, and I knew this nightmare finally had ended.
Through this arduous process I think I learned my lesson about why I should never research on the internet, and just call and ask what is going on with my body. If I had done this, I would have had a D&C back in September (around 14 weeks) instead of November after being pregnant for 22 weeks.
This process also brought me and Chris even closer. I know people say that having a baby brings people together more than anything else, but honestly, I think this miscarriage brought Chris and I closer than a baby ever could. And I think that because we have gone through this, we are in such a better place as a couple, and will be in an even better place when we do finally become parents. My love and appreciation for Chris has grown beyond what I ever thought it could, and Chris has also had his heart softened in this process.
The last two-three months have been so full of anxiety and anger and frustration. It has been hard, and it has been disappointing (especially because two ladies at church are also pregnant due in March-when I was due, and a lady at work is also pregnant and is showing and I see it daily, reminding me that I wont be having a baby this year.) But as I am typing this today, I feel so at peace, I didn't think I could feel at peace, but I do.
In my many, many appointments, blood draws, etc. that I've had the last two weeks, I've been asked when we are going to try again. My answer? I don't know. It will happen when it happens. And when it happens, we both will be SO excited for the adventure.
