I guess I should start by telling a little background....we have been pregnant before. We were that happy family, you know the innocent ones - making plans for the future and thinking of how things were going to be. Thinking about the activities we would be sharing with our little bundle, planning the first years. We have three older children already and they were excited that a little bundle would be joining us. We were literally three days from that scary window of the first trimester.
I hadn't been feeling well that weekend but I was alright and then I started spotting, nothing significant at first. Bed rest it was. But the bleeding got worse, until it became bright red and within an hour I was in the emergency room with our aborted 11 weeks and four day old pinkish baby lying motionless on a tray, my eldest daughter who had to drive me by my side. A brief moment later, my husband rushed in to me and I silently cried. We all did. I felt utterly betrayed by my body, my belief system, by the world. We left the hospital that night in a fog of shock and disbelief. December 9, 2013, will be in our memories forever.
I know our child got to be 11 weeks and four days because that's what I was told at our follow up appointment. My doctor explained that I was one of the unlucky ones because she had no conclusive answers for us on why this happened. All the tests they ran on the baby as well as myself came up with nothing abnormal....not that it would have helped my demeanor anyway. I had just experienced sitting in a waiting room with bellies for 45 minutes because my appointment was pushed back. "There ought to be a law," I joked in my head trying to get through this moment. It was emotionally grueling. As were the following weeks after the loss. Awkward conversations, people literally feeling my tummy or staring at it at the very least, those statements that are meant to make you feel better but really just sound as dumb as if you are telling a parent of a deceased five-year- old that at least they still have their other children....just smile and wave and exist and move on.
I went home after that happy to know I was alright, but the void was still there. My body didn't want to believe the pregnancy was gone, in fact, for the next two months I was still setting off those two blue lines. My doctor said the hormones would disappear on their own, my body was in limbo and we just needed to wait it out. Taking those tests became the weekly ritual. I longed for my baby and silently cursed every time I heard someone complain about being pregnant. My husband and I had many great talks about it because he could understand how I felt, he lived this with me.
My husband coped by focusing on how lucky he was that I was healthy and fine. This scare was never going to happen to us again, it was too risky. We couldn't do this, it's too much of a gamble. Our other children are not his biologically, but it didn't matter. From the moment he got to know them, they were his. They legally took his name June 5, 2014, after months and months of paperwork. Things were going all of our way and why rock the boat. The divorce rate alone on parents that suffer a loss is a staggering 86%, according to recent findings. We were lucky in that respect. Our communication skills really got us through those dark passages we would find ourselves in.
Our family got stronger. We started having fun again, especially after I started to feel like myself again. We laughed. We loved. We cried. We laughed some more. We dreamed. Our kids would begin to drop hints that they wanted another sibling. They got to the point they would demand it. "What are you two doing out of your room? Get back in there!"
With assurance from the doctor, we forged forward with our proverbial shields and swords wielded.....and six months went by with nothing. Every month was a negative test, every month was a bust. We finally gave up on the notion. My husband and I enjoyed a stay in Scotland and vowed to go back and stay a while. Life was great! I had recently had an art show and published a book. Could things get any better? We have everything we need so quit longing for what you don't have, we would tell ourselves.
And then I noticed my period didn't come, a week over due. With a deep breath and clenched eyes I peeked at the activated test...positive! Rain baby rain! After a few days of elation, it started. The panic of the bad....checking the toilet tissue for color every time I relieved myself, watching my dog's behavior to see if she was still protecting me, making sure I was still feeling pregnant, clamming up. My husband came to my rescue immediately. He made me realize we needed to celebrate! We are going to celebrate every day, every moment of morning sickness, every pound I gain, every milestone and week that passes by. We are savoring every moment! We've dreamed of this moment too much to let our fears take away our joy. We will celebrate the miracle of life growing in my belly! Positives abound for this tiny momma!
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