The decision to try again did not come easy. The decision not to try again will be much harder.
The following is a detailed description of the last few years of my life in regards to my trying to conceive journey. It's very detailed so read at your own risk. Thank you, in advance, for caring enough to want to know what it's been like for me and my family.
After the miscarriage in April this year my heart was completely broken. It was the second time I miscarried. I had so many unanswered questions. I wanted to know why my body and my God would allow me to get pregnant and not allow me to carry a child for the second time in 3 years. I thought I was doing everything right. I was eating better, avoiding hazards, taking prenatal vitamins and trying to exercise more. I started a pregnancy journal to keep track of my miracle, every step of the way. If I had known my journey would be so short, would I have chosen that path regardless? At the time I felt pregnant. I was experiencing everything that the forums and the books said I would. It had been 11 years since I had my last child so I kind of forgot what to expect. I couldn't pick up the phone and call someone every time I had a question so I turned to the internet. I just wanted to talk to other women going through the same thing I was going through. It was helpful in a lot of ways and scary in others. Reading what some of these poor women had gone through as they were trying to conceive was heart wrenching. Following along on their journey I felt like I was going through it with them. I could relate to a lot of things they were going through because I had been there, in 2009. I tried to encourage them and show them a lot of love. They were so scared and sad as they poured their hearts out to their new found internet family. That's what it was, really, a family. As I reached the point where I too needed to cry on someone's shoulders I leaned on these same women. They helped me understand so much of what was going on in my heart and in my body. I came to terms with the idea that it wasn't uncommon and that there was likely nothing wrong with me or my husband. For 2 months I was adamant about not going through that ever again. I told myself it made no sense to try again and put my self or my family through that heartache. It was so hard on everyone.
In June my husband and I decided that if we were going to try again, this was probably the best time to do it. After all, we're only getting older. We've wanted another baby since Gabe was born in 2001. In my heart I was so torn. My heart kept telling me to try again but my mind was terrified that I would only miscarry again. I started taking prenatal vitamins right away and drinking a lot of water. It didn't happen in June but in July, I had a really good feeling. Sure enough, after a long vacation to Atlantic Beach, NC we got our wish! I was hesitant because I had several negative test results and then a positive. I made an appointment with my family Dr. to get confirmation only to get 'inconclusive' results. She said there was a line but it was so faint she wanted to wait a week and test again. That was on a Thursday. My heart was literally in my feet as I felt her stare directly through me. I could see the pain in her eyes. I could feel her compassion and the doubt that radiated from her tightly shut lips. Her body language was a red flag, waving in my face, clenching my heart and igniting my tears. I insisted on a blood test, right then and there. In the 5 seconds or so that it took her to respond I convinced myself of what was about to happen in the days to come. I knew I needed my hCG numbers so I would have something to compare them to with the numerous, eminent blood draws that would take place in the near future. I suppose, since I'd been down this road before, my mind was telling me there was only one way out. I could feel my blood pumping to and from my heart like a drum. I could feel my skin clam up and my throat closing fast. I had to get out of that office before I exploded! The 15 steps to the truck were the longest strides in history. I felt myself start to shudder and it was like I was surrounded by some unseen force of doom. I felt like some sinister spirit was hovering over me or something. I felt myself starting to get really angry. So angry, I didn't know if I should drive right at that moment. I had to go to work so I didn't have much choice. I called my husband and told him what had happened. I tried to keep my voice even and at least sound like I was ok. I could hear the sorrow in his voice but I think he was more concerned about me than anything. I honestly don't know what I'd do without this man but at that very moment, knowing I was lying to him, I just wanted to hang up the phone and let the flood gates fall. I made it to work and finally told the other girl in the reception area what was going on, just in case. I called a million times throughout the day to get the results of the blood draw. I couldn't focus and I couldn't make sense of a single thought in my head. I was empty, hollow, and completely devoid of .....something. I didn't know how to feel or what to think. My internet family was amazing, as always. But even their love and support wasn't enough to fill that void. All day I was fighting tears and scared to death that the phone would ring and I'd have to hear them tell me it was over, once again. I called my OB to let him know that they would be receiving a call about my results. They scheduled an initial paperwork visit for August 27th and then my OB walked up so she put me on hold. When she returned she said with a very careful voice that my Dr. wanted to see me as soon as possible. He must have been pretty concerned when he heard I was pregnant and I hadn't even told him we were trying again. I made an appointment to see him the next day, Friday, at 4:00 p.m.
At 5:45 p.m. Thursday I got the call. My blood draw was positive but hCG was 15, suggesting that I was 1-2 weeks along. I couldn't even comprehend what she was saying for a few seconds. All I could say is, "but I'm 4 weeks and 5 days......" and I suddenly felt sick. My fear doubled and I started to shake. My kids were standing a few feet away. I hadn't told them anything yet, and I couldn't. I just couldn't. I just smiled at them, hoping they couldn't see through it to the pain that had now taken over every square inch of my body and mind. They knew I was 'sick', or they could tell, anyway. I told them I went to see the Dr. that morning but they didn't know what for. My conscience was screaming like demons from the bowels of hell. I turned to start dinner and the tears just started to flow uncontrollably. I finished dinner and got ready for bed. Friday came and went rather quickly and I went to my OB's office for my 4:00 appointment. He thought it was a good idea to get another blood draw that day, even though it hadn't been 48 hours. He said he would feel better about another draw on Monday, and that comparing the two was better coming from the same machine. Apparently that made sense to him. I was supposed to get the call that night, no matter how late but it never came.
We were planning a trip to Cedar Point that Saturday for Gabe. It was the last weekend we had to take him before school started and it was what he wanted for his birthday. His friend was dropped off late Friday night and I went to bed shortly after. Just before that I let my teenager, Caleb know what was going on with me. He's 18 so I thought he might understand a little better. But I could see the hurt in his eyes too. Maybe that wasn't a good idea.
We walked through the gates at 9:52 a.m. and my phone rang immediately. I'm pretty sure my heart just stopped when I saw the caller ID. At that moment no one and nothing around me existed. Dr. Gibbs said 'hello' in his morning groggy voice and asked how I was feeling. I could already hear the sorrow in his voice. He told me that my hCG was only 18 but not to feel any negative feelings about it just yet. He said this early in pregnancy the actual numbers don't mean as much as whether or not they are rising or falling. I hung up the phone and was literally afraid to speak for the rest of the day at the risk of crashing to the ground in a panic inducing fit of rage and sadness. All day Saturday I was terrified that something would happen while I was over an hour from home, walking around this amusement park with my mostly unaware family, surrounded by thousands of strangers who didn't have a clue what I was going through. I didn't ride any roller coasters but I did get on the cable cars and the Witches Wheel. I even got Gabe on the Witches Wheel by some miracle. I rode the Matterhorn too. They are smooth, non jerky rides and I didn't know how to explain to Gabe, who asked me to ride with him that I probably shouldn't. The restraints were very loose and I was fine. I did end up telling him that I hadn't felt good for a few days and the Dr. said I should avoid the roller coasters. He wasn't happy but he was more concerned that I was still sick. He kept holding my hand and giving me hugs, telling me he loved me. I love that boy. As the day progressed I started getting more and more uncomfortable. I wasn't in pain, but something definitely wasn't right. Of all the pregnancy symptoms I had in the few days before this, the only one that was still lingering was the constipation. I know, TMI. Sorry. I was cramping a little but totally attributed it to that last, annoying symptom. On the way home, apart from being totally exhausted and drained of my emotions from having worried the entire day, I was starving. We stopped for dinner and as we were standing at the register ordering our meals I felt a sense of calm come over me. That sinister cloud of doom that had been following me around was evaporating like fog from a window. The sadness was sinking deeper but the fear was literally disappearing. I knew what was happening but I started to pray, almost out loud, that it waited about 45 more minutes until we were home. I went to the restroom before we left and had passed some grayish pink tissue. I didn't remember that from before. I wasn't bleeding and I really wasn't in any pain. I was uncomfortable and sad, but not in pain. When we got home I went to the restroom again, and nothing. I felt okay but decided to head straight to bed anyway. My husband let the boys run around for a while before sending them to bed but kept them quiet enough that I was able to go to sleep easily. I woke up Sunday morning feeling surprisingly okay. My sister was having a birthday party for my niece that day and I had been prepared to drive out there to see her. They are about 45 minutes from our house. I took a shower and as I was exiting I started getting some strong cramping that stopped me in my tracks. I sat down and started to cry thinking this was it. For about 30 minutes I sat there and nothing happened. I still felt the cramps, some stronger than others. But they weren't letting up. I called my sister and apologized but decided not to go out there. I was afraid that things would get bad and Gabe and both of my very young nieces, not to mention the dozens of other family members at the party would have their day ruined having to deal with me and my issue. That would be very unfair of me. I laid on the couch for a little while with a heat pack on my tummy and drank a lot of water. Some time later in the afternoon our neighbors asked if we wanted to hang out and have dinner at their house and though I was initially hesitant, I decided it was close to home and I could sprint home if I needed to. I discovered not long before we headed over to their house that I was spotting. I told my husband I was fine and that I would tell him if I started to feel worse and needed to head home. The walk over seemed to take forever but I'm sure it was because my mind wasn't on walking over to the neighbors for dinner. It was everywhere else.
When my husband confessed to me how terrible it was to watch me go through the miscarriage in 2009 something in me changed. It wasn't that I didn't know how hard it must have been for him. But at the time, in 2009 I guess I didn't realize the depth of it, from his prospective. That experience brought us closer together somehow and since then I've felt more in tune with his emotions where I'm concerned. I don't just hear him say he loves me or he's worried about me, I feel it, in a very physical way. I don't know how else to explain it. When we were leaving the neighbors Sunday night, I knew what was happening but something wouldn't let me tell him or even allow him to see me cry. I didn't want him to hurt like I was hurting. I didn't want him to worry any more than necessary. I didn't want him to be scared, like I was. When I went to bed that night all I wanted was for him to lay next to me, hold me, let me cry into his chest and just tell me that everything was going to be okay. The urge to cry out was so hard to resist. But I had to stay strong. I had to fight that urge along with all the other urges to give in to my emotions and plead with my husband to not let me go through this again. I wanted him to save me. I wanted him to be my rock and my beacon of light. But my heart wouldn't let me. I just couldn't stand to think about what he would go through if he saw me suffering, again.
I woke up around 3:30 a.m. in a world of pain and ran to the restroom. It felt like a war was taking place in my abdomen. I knew I had pain medication left from the D&C in April but I didn't know where it was...and I was afraid to get up and look. I was afraid to move. I was in so much pain, but I fought the urge to scream out because I didn't want to wake anyone. I didn't want anyone to see me like that, again. Some time after 5:00 a.m. I was able to crawl back in bed. The alarm sounded just after 5:30 and I started the morning routine. There was no way I was going to work like this. Since the gray tissue I passed on Saturday night, I was only spotting so I knew the worst was yet to come. When Barry was out of the shower and finishing up last minute things I decided to tell him that it might be a good idea if I stayed home from work that day. He instantly looked worried but I tried to calmly tell him that I was cramping a little and that I just didn't want anything to happen at work. I smiled through the pain, hugged him tightly, kissed his sweet little lips and told him not to worry all while holding back a river of tears. He left around 6:40 a.m.
After he left I realized that both of my boys were still home sleeping. At that moment I prayed like never before that it would happen quickly or hold off a few more hours until they left for a planned trip to the zoo. Around 830 a.m. the cramps were so bad that when I walked to the bathroom I was hunched over, holding my stomach and trembling, probably from fear. I had started to bleed pretty heavy and felt like I was going to vomit and cry all at the same time. I was scared to death that the kids would see me like that but more so that they were going to leave and I was going to have to do this alone. What was I thinking? I was thinking I simply can't put my husband through that again. I had no idea it would happen so fast this time. Caleb was able to find my Vicodin in the medicine cabinet so at least I had that. The kids walked out the door around 9:10 a.m. and at 9:20 I was crying in the bathroom and passing the first of 2 large masses. If you've never experienced this I can only tell you that the pain ranks right up there with child birth. That is essentially what is happening, just at an earlier stage. And if you've never given birth, I don't know what to compare it to. I took a Vicodin and I still thought I was going to die. The sorrow that comes from this process probably makes the pain feel much worse, I think. About an hour and a half later I was able to get up and meander back to the couch where I watched a movie or two. My husband called to check on me and again, I told him I was okay. I told him I had passed some tissue but that I was fine and lying on the couch watching t.v. He asked me if I wanted him to come home. I was dying to tell him 'YES!" I wanted him to come home and hold me and let me cry and drown myself in this horrible chasm of emotions. But I told him 'no'. I told him I would be okay and he could call as often as he'd like to check on me. Around 1:10 or so in the afternoon the cramps returned. They caught me by surprise because I was just getting to a point where I thought I might fall asleep for a minute. I sat up quickly and felt the immediate sensation of migraine mixed with cramps and numbness from my waste to my knees. I didn't know if I could stand up. I honestly thought I might fall right back down. I made it up and back into the bathroom, once again, just in time. Part of me thought it might be a good idea to try to keep the tissue and have it tested. All I could do was stare at it for a long few minutes until finally, the tears began to flow. Before I knew it I was sobbing. Why did I think it was a good idea to try again? Why did I think it would be any different than the last two times? And why in the world did I chose to go through this process alone? What a fool I was.
Here I sit, Thursday morning, one week after the first blood draw and I still don't know when this process is going to end. I went in this morning for another blood draw for a final hCG count. They need it to be less than 5 and it was. I just made the call for the results. I thought they would call me but I couldn't wait any longer. I'm still bleeding and passing small pieces of tissue but it's normal, or so they say. I don't feel normal, by any means. I feel empty. I feel old, inadequate, and somehow alone, still. My heart is broken. My soul is bruised. I feel so...incomplete. What happened to me? What happened to the girl that could look misery in the face and smile? What happened to the strength it took me 25 years to find? What happened to my optimism and my ability to overcome adversity? I feel so defeated.
As my journey reaches it's end I'll continue to try to reach out to my friends and family who have offered their shoulder to cry on so that I don't feel so alone in this. My OB Dr. believes that my progesterone levels have been the culprit and that if we wanted to try again, there is a way to boost those levels. Again, this would mean several weeks of waiting to see if in fact, my progesterone levels are to blame. I don't know if I want to take that chance again. I can't afford fertility treatments and tomorrow I'll be 37 year old...as will the eggs that may or may not be left in my body. I know I could try again. I just don't think I want to. At least not today.
I've read blogs and books and articles about miscarriage and I've been through it 3 times now (4 if you count the one I probably had in 1994). I still don't know how to feel. I still don't know how to grieve. I still don't know how to accept anything about this and just move on. What I do know is that I have a family, a very large family with friends and blood relatives that love me dearly. I feel so blessed and so honored to have them all so close to my heart. I have 2 wonderful boys and a wonderful step daughter that have literally made my life worth living for the last 18 years. And I have my amazing husband and best friend who has been my core strength for the last 12 years. I wish I could tell him how sorry I am that I couldn't bring him another child, another piece of us to cherish and love. I know that he's happy with me and with our family. I just wish I could've given him one more reason to love being a part of this family. In time, they say I'll be okay. In time they say I'll learn to deal with this and move on. I hope that one day I can look back and be glad that we tried. I don't know which pain is worse, the pain that comes from losing 3 babies, or the pain that comes from knowing you can't (or likely won't) have any more. Either way, I hope that no one that I love has to endure it. And to those of you that have, I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am and how much I love you. I want to thank you for being a part of my journey in life, through good times and bad. But I especially want to thank you for loving me when I needed it the most. I have felt more love in the last few years than I have my entire life. I think that is what has helped me to pull through these terrible times. I've been blessed to have most of you since I was a child. From this day forward, I vow to show you the same love you've showed me in the hopes that somehow, I'll learn to love myself, again, too.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.
