I was here 6 months ago when my tube ruptured and I am here now as I miscarry. Life has a funny way of repeating itself.
I just lost my second pregnancy. It started quickly and it ended quickly.
It’s supposed to be easier than this but if I’ve ever learned one thing, it’s that nothing, NOTHING, in my life has been easy or worked out the way it should. Two days ago, I said to myself “If you don’t have hope, what do you have?”
I’ll tell you.
If you don’t have hope you have a hole inside of you so big that nothing fills it. If you don’t have hope, you have nothing. And nothing hurts worse than being hit by a truck. Much. Worse.
This roller coaster should have ended in April. When I found out I was pregnant, I should have stayed pregnant. It should have ended again today, with my HCG doubling and a gestational sac showing up on the ultrasound. But it keeps on going.
The worst part of all of this is watching my fiance struggle. Not only do I have to worry about my physical health, my emotional health and my sanity, I have to worry about his. And being sober people, we seem to be more fragile than some. I don’t mean that these things are harder for us than others, I just mean that.. when a sober person has a struggle, everyone around them worries whether or not they’re going to pick up. Are they going to get high because they lost a baby? It’s an entirely possible scenario.
But in the last 5 1/2 years of being sober, I’ve learned that I would rather feel real feelings than fake happiness and that’s all picking up would do for me. But I can’t say the same for my fiance, who, when I had my first surgery for an ectopic pregnancy told me that if he couldn’t have children he didn’t want to be sober.
I can handle losing my baby but I can’t handle losing his.
Losing someone else’s baby takes on a whole new meaning.
Today I came home and made some parsley tea. I want to get this over with as quickly as it started. Maybe that sounds harsh, but its the only way I can move on.
I loved you with all of my heart. You were so small you barely existed but you existed to me. You should have been a beautiful little person. You should have been able to cry and smile and breathe and… live. I’m sorry that you couldn’t be, not yet. Maybe you weren’t ready, and I understand. The world is a scary place. It’s beautiful and crazy, but it can be scary. And you don’t have to come yet. Whenever you’re ready, you have a little family here waiting for you with open arms.
And we will love you then.
So here I am, 5 weeks pregnant.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared or anxious. I am. But I am trying my hardest to be excited and positive about this little peppercorn. That’s what I’ve nicknamed it because that’s how big it is today. Just a little peppercorn.
I am going to love this baby more than I’ve ever loved anything. I can’t even believe how much I’m going to love it.
I haven’t been to the doctor yet. I should be able to get in to see him on Wednesday. Cue the anxiety. Please pray for me that we see our little blip.
I have been having slight intermittent cramping, which totally freaks me out but also gives me hope that something is in my uterus, as that’s where the cramping is. My boobs are very painful. Not so much sensitive but just honest to god painful stabbing like feeling. That’s pretty normal for me, hormonally speaking. I have also been so starving constantly and just eating eating eating. And peeing! A lot.
I might be one of the only ones out there who says this but I really hope the sickness kicks in soon.
I WANT all my pregnancy symptoms, good or bad, and I want them now!
I am so so terrified and so excited and scared and emotional. No one ever tells you what pregnancy after a loss feels like… Let me tell you. It feels like a million different things all at once with a side of acid reflux.
I wish it wasn’t Saturday so I could go see my doctor but I’ll just have to practice that patience thing people talk about.
Now is as good a time as any for this:
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.
Oh brother. Today is the kind of day where I can’t bring myself to do anything, not even get out of bed. It doesn’t help that I’ve had a low grade fever on and off for 3 days and have missed work and just lounged around. I. am. exhausted. So so so exhausted in fact that I’ve been able to convince myself super easily that I’m pregnant. This last week of the month is always the absolute hardest. No matter how much I lie to myself and tell myself that “whatever happens happens” and “what will be will be”, my brain is secretly racing a million miles a minute trying to convince myself that I’m pregnant. For me, the hardest part is that my boobs always KILL me before I get my period. I mean, sharp intake of breath when I stand up kind of kill me… It is excruciating (and unfortunately, never a sure sign of pregnancy). Every month I’m able to convince myself I’m pregnant because of my breast pain, my fatigue, my emotions, my peeing frequently.. all of which occur most of the time anyway, without being pregnant. So, needless to say, the last few days have been hard.
All the reasons why I’m DEFINITELY pregnant (rolls eyes):
I’ve been sick since last Wednesday, so of course, I convinced myself that it’s because my immune system was lowered so my body wouldn’t attack the implanting embryo and that’s why I’m sick.. and plenty of newly conceived women get sick for this very reason!
I’ve had a fluctuating low grade fever. From 100.1 to 99.6 to 97.9 to 98.6 to 99.4 to 99…. Don’t women have low grade fevers or higher body temps when they conceive? Yes! Duh.
I have been peeing frequently. Enough said.
I have been having extreme cravings for bread, to the point of running out to the store at 10 pm to buy some jalapeno cheese bread… yuck.
I have been starving and nothing sounds appetizing. Except the bread of course.
I have been exhausted!
All of these reasons could be perfect indicators for anyone else, but not me. They all have an alternate explanation. And the fact that I woke up this morning experiencing cramps, the day after my expected period (and come on, when I have ever been on time??) is making this day all the more difficult.
Cramps after the two week wait is like the biggest slap in the face. It’s like some period god is out there saying “get a grip. You’re such an idiot. I can’t believe you thought you were pregnant.” I know it’s ridiculous because I do feel like I’m being punished. I really do feel like someone is there, waiting at the finish line of my cycle, laughing hysterically at me while the wipe the grin of my face. Pregnant?? How could YOU have thought you were pregnant for even a second?
Who knows? Maybe I am, but just as likely, maybe I’m not.
A few times a day I say to myself, “it’s ok, you can cry whenever you want.”
Today is cycle day 27. I’m getting so close to the end of this cycle. It’s weird though because I’m usually so stressed by this point, wanting so badly to know what’s going to happen. Am I pregnant? Am I not pregnant? I’ve never been able to take pregnancy tests early. Honestly, the last two cycles, I couldn’t even bring myself to test at all. So I just waited to get my period and when I did, I called my doctor to start the next cycle of Clomid. This last cycle (our third with Clomid) I was on 100 mg, as last month my follicles didn’t get as big as my doctor would have hoped. Last month I was ovulating on my left side and I was so excited because that’s my “good side” as my ectopic and my endometrioma were both on the right side. But it didn’t happen for us and my largest follicle only grew to about 2.1 cm. This month at my ultrasounds, my follicles looked great. I had two big ones on my right side, 2.3 and 3.0 cm I believe. My doctor said it looked as good as it gets. So I started the 100 mg of Clomid and let the madness begin again.
And oh boy, does that Clomid drive you mad. The hot flashes alone are enough to make you beg for mercy. But I stuck it out and wait to start testing. This month, like last month, I still ovulated late (not too late, some would probably even say it didn’t count) but I ovulated on day 16. Getting negative ovulation tests day after day is enough for me, I don’t need to go through that with pregnancy tests at the end of the month as well. So the waiting began almost 2 weeks ago. And for some reason, I’m oddly peaceful.
It’s not like I’ve given up, but I have found some peace in some far away corner of my soul. I don’t know where it come from or why it’s here but I hope it stays. I like not feeling frantic about what’s going to happen in a couple days. I like focusing on other things and smiling at how great it would be if I was pregnant instead of crying at the chance I might not be. I know that one day I’ll have a baby. Where it comes from, I don’t know and I don’t care. If it comes from inside of me, I’ll love it. If it comes from inside of someone else, I’ll love it just the same.
I do hope I find out I’m pregnant in a few days, but if I don’t, I’ll be excited to start the journey again next cycle. Well you won’t find me jumping for joy over those hot flashes, but you get the picture.
Tonight I am suffering from a chronic heavy heart. Some days are just so much easier than others. When I think back to April, the words that play over and over in my head are “I just can’t believe it”. I just can’t believe I had an ectopic. It’s so shocking to me. I know what I should and shouldn’t be doing. I should be trying to stay present, I shouldn’t be obsessing about the past or the future of getting pregnant. I should most definitely stop saying to myself “I would be (this many months) pregnant today”… But it is so hard sometimes. I would be 7 months pregnant. I would be so pregnant. I would have a huge full belly that my fiancé would stare at with wonder and awe. I would rub it as I fell asleep and laugh as I struggled to drive my car. The hardest part? Our friends got pregnant right around the same time and they’re still pregnant. She has a huge belly… And a huge smile on her face.
Some days I feel like I have nothing. And I know I have so much. So much that I’m thankful and grateful for. I’m grateful to be sober and grateful to have a job and a fiancé who loves me and family who cares about me.
I have so so much.
But I don’t have the baby that I’ve wanted my entire life. The baby who made me want to be a doula.
And don’t even get me started on being a doula when you’re trying to conceive. I love my job… But it is the worst.
Mommy and baby selfie! I am still sick. Definitely sick. So I thought I’d take this time to share a slice of home life. This is my girl. My one true princess. And seriously, she is suuuuch a princess. Take a look at this morning selfie
“Moooom don’t wake me. I’ll kiss you if you please don’t make me get out of bed.”
This little slice of yappy rat dog joy is what greets me every day when I return from work. I adore her.
After work life has been great to me the last few weeks. I’ve been working on a lot of projects. Since I am in the throes of wedding planning, I started a wedding inspiration Instagram. I know, I’m totally crazy, but humor me. It’s fun to share the things that have been inspiring me during this planning process. Although who knew my fiancé would be more inspired by wedding flowers than I am!
I have also decided to get back into sewing. You see, I used to sew baby clothes but after my ectopic, I just couldn’t bring myself to go into my office. I couldn’t even step foot in their without being accosted by all things baby. Like, nice rows of teeny tiny pants hung on the wall and beautiful organic cotton in the middle of being sewn into crib sheets. It’s actually quite beautiful in there but it just didn’t feel good.
Now, I’m forcing myself to do the things I love. I’ll share some projects with you guys soon. And by you guys, I mean the big wide world of web where who knows who’s actually out there. Hello?
I can’t get sick I can’t get sick I can get sick.
I wonder if the power of positive thinking actually works to ward off the nasty little alien germs that are invading my nostrils at the moment. I cannot get sick.
These are the most powerful and most frequently used words of a doula. Sickness is the ultimate punishment. As a freelancer, I don’t get sick days. I don’t get vacation days. I don’t get benefits. (I do get all the wonderful perks of holding smushy babies!) but that doesn’t do much for me when my nose starts running. Oh sickness, how I hate you so. The absolutely worst part of my job is not being able to go anywhere near work at the smallest sign of a sniffle. Getting someone else’s kid sick is not mother approved.
So while I sit here sucking on these elderberry pastilles, please send some good health vibes to the God of your choosing.