Monday, December 8, 2014

Tears of Joy

It has been 17 days since our family welcomed it's newest member.  Baby Victoria Grace came into this world on November 21st at 5:17 am.  She was pink, crying, covered in vernix, wide eyed and one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.  She was immediately placed in my arms, while still attached to me via umbilical cord.  I held her in my arms and immediately began to weep tears of joy.  I looked at Micah and back at Victoria, I couldn't believe she was actually here.

My labor began on Thursday morning around 3:30 am.  I woke up for one of my frequent bathroom trips and noticed a contraction.  I went back to bed, but I couldn't go back to sleep.  I went downstairs, turned on the TV and every ten minutes or so I felt another contraction.  Since around 22 weeks I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions, so I was hesitant to think this could be the real thing.  By the time Micah got up around 6:30 am the contractions seemed to be getting stronger, so he decided to take the day off.  As the day went on I had contractions on and off.  They would get stronger for a while, and then lighten up.  We went to the mall to walk around for awhile, then out to lunch with my Mom where I would periodically sit back and breathe through a contraction.  Finally around 9pm they seemed to be consistently strong and regular, we decided to go the hospital and call our Doula.

When we got to the hospital I was checked into triage and the nurse checked me.  I was dialated to about 4cm.  We walked around the halls for an hour and I got checked again, I was between 4 and 5.  We again walked the halls for another hour, this time with our amazingly helpful doula.  By now my contractions were strong I was started to feel back labor.  I would lean on the hallway handrails, hold Micah's hand and Hattie our Doula would put counter pressure on my back.  By the time I got checked again I was close to 6cm dialated.  I labored for a while longer before our labor and delivery nurse Paige arrived to transfer me to our delivery room.

Once we got settled in our new room I got in the shower and labored there for a while.  Then I came out and not long after my Doctor arrived to check on me.  I was lucky enough to have built a good relationship with my Obstetrician over the past two years.  She was the Doctor that delivered James and Penelope and had seen me for every appointment following their birth and with this pregnancy as well.  She had offered to deliver Victoria even if she was not on call and even gave me her personal cell phone number.  I was still around 6cm and she offered to break my water in hopes of speeding things up.  At this point I had been in labor for over 20 hours and anything to speed things up seemed like a good idea so I agreed.  She broke my water bag and the next contraction was crazy intense.  I couldn't believe how much more painful it was.  After a few more contractions I started crying and telling Micah and my Doula that I couldn't do it anymore, I needed an epidural.  We called the nurse in and she set up an IV for me.  She said once the bag was empty we could start the epidural.  Within about 20 minutes of sitting on the birth ball and doing some deep breathing I was handling the contractions much better and I told her I didn't need it.  Within an hour the contractions were more intense again.  My legs were shaking and once again I asked for an epidural.  This time our nurse Paige suggested checking me first to see if I had progressed.  I was almost 10 cm dialated, I was almost done and I knew I could do it without the epidural.

I got back on the birth ball and a few contractions later I started feeling the urge to push.  I begrudgingly got back into bed and our Doctor was called back in along with a Resident.  Pushing went pretty quickly and after about 20 minutes Victoria came out.  The physical pain of labor and delivery was worse than I had remembered, but the pure euphoria of holding your newborn baby was even better than I had remembered. It had been almost four years since I had given birth to my first daughter and a little over two years since I had given birth to my twins.  All three births were completely different experiences.  I just held her in my arms, crying and telling her how much I loved her. 

Victoria has been home with us for a little over two weeks now and I can't imagine our family without her.  She is just perfect and watching Gwenevere in her big sister role is precious.  Every moment with her is a gift, but it is also bittersweet.  Every moment I have with her is a reminder of what I never got to have with Penelope and James. I am so grateful to have her here, but I can't help feeling sad for my my son and daughter than I never got to bring home.  I am also aware that if my twins had survived we would not have gone on to have another baby and Victoria would not be here.  She is a piece of our family's puzzle and she makes us a little more complete.  But we will always be missing two pieces, James and Penelope.  They will always be loved and missed and they will always be part of our family.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

38 weeks tomorrow

I am ready for this baby to get here!!  I have spent so much of this pregnancy worrying about preterm labor and having a premature baby that it's weird for me to be at this point.  I have spent so many days and nights worrying about contractions and whether or not my water is breaking.  Now I am just ready to bring it on!  I will be 38 weeks tomorrow, so I am not even full term yet.  I want to just be patient.  I know that the closer to 40 weeks we get, the healthier this baby will be.  So I should just wait patiently, but I can't.  I have been so anxious this whole pregnancy and I am terrified that something will go wrong last minute.  I just need to see her and hear her cry.

With my first pregnancy with Gwenevere I never really felt impatient.  As a first time Mom I anticipated that I would go over 40 weeks, probably 41-42.  I was being seen by a midwife and I knew that she wouldn't push for an induction just because my due date came and went.  I was due on December 8th and the thought of going into labor in November never even crossed my mind.  So when I started having contractions on November 30th I didn't really think it could be the real thing.  But sure enough, the next day my daughter was born at 39 weeks exactly.  Not exactly early and certainly not premature, but sooner than I expected.

Now that I have had a baby at 39 weeks and my twins prematurely at 22 weeks I have been certain this whole pregnancy that I would not make it to term.  I have been hoping for at least 32 weeks, but preferably 37 weeks.  Well here I am about to be 38 weeks and no sign of baby coming.  Now that I have made it this far I can't help but wonder if I will go past my due date.  I know that the best thing for baby is for her to come when she is ready.  I just don't know how much longer my nerves will last.  Last week at my OB appointment she started talking about a possible induction at 39 weeks.  Normally I would be completely opposed to being induced unless absolutely nessesary.  I found myself smiling and saying that it seemed like a good idea.  I don't really want to be induced, in fact it sounds awful.  But I want my baby here.

For now all I can do is try to be patient.  I have an OB appointment this Wednesday and she will try to strip my membranes if possible.  I have hope that doing that will get things going.  If not, I will continue to wait.  All I can do is wait and trust that my body will keep this baby growing and healthy until she is ready to be born.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

33 Weeks; Trying to Keep it Together

Yesterday was a scary day.  I woke up in the morning feeling a little off, so I spend most of the day drinking water and resting.  As the day went on I noticed that I was having Braxton Hicks contractions.  I have been having these since about 20 weeks, but every time I have one I freak out a little bit.  As the day went on I noticed they were happening more and more frequently.  Around 3pm I decided it was time to call the Doctor.  She instructed me to rest and continue drinking water, if they weren't settling down in an hour to go to the hospital.  I did as I was told and the contractions kept coming.  Micah and I dropped of Gwenevere with my parents and headed into labor and delivery.

The whole way there I kept thinking that this couldn't possibly be labor.  Maybe I was just imagining the contractions.  Once we got there they hooked me up to the monitor and sure enough there were my contractions on the screen, one every 4-5 minutes.  Crap.  This was not what I was hoping to see.  We waited a while for the Doctor as my anxiety grew.  We found Sex and the City on TV which proved to be a pretty good distraction.  Once the Doctor came in she talked about everything they were going to check, cervix length and several swabs for any signs of infection.  She performed the exam and was happy to report that my cervix was still closed and long, great news.  We waited a while for the lab results to come back and everything looked good.  By the time the lab results were back my contractions had started to slow down to every 7-10 minutes, which was a good sign.

Once the Doctor determined that I was not in actual labor I was free to go home.  They sent me home with a prescription to help calm the contractions, but it comes with some pretty bad side effects.  She suggested not taking it unless I really needed to.  She also told me that while it subdues my feelings of tightness from the contractions it does nothing to actually prevent labor.  So as of now I have not filled the prescription.

Today I am stressed.  I am glad that our little girl didn't make her big debut yesterday, but I am scared that she could come anytime now.  I am not ready, she is not ready.  I am now 33 weeks.  If she were born today she would most certainly survive, but not without medical intervention.  Just the thought of seeing my baby hooked up to a ventilator makes me want to cry.  I want to have what a had with Gwenevere, a big, healthy, full term baby.  I am trying my best to take it easy today, but that is challenging while trying to keep up with a three year old.  I feel like every time I get up I have a contraction.  But I know I can't just lay on the couch all day.  Micah is coming home on his lunch break to take the dog on a walk and Gwenevere is getting more than her share of screen time.  All I can do for now is take it one day at a time.  Every day that she stays in she is getting bigger and stronger.

Monday, August 18, 2014

Good Memories

Tomorrow marks the second anniversary of the birth and death of James and Penelope.  Looking back to that day and the days that followed there was so much pain.  The kind of pain that takes you over and makes it difficult to just breathe.  There is much of my life during those weeks and months after we lost them that I don't really remember.  I know that life went on, I had my almost two year old to take care of.  But what we did, what I did during that time I'm not really sure of.  I know there were lots of tears, I know there were some happy times too, but much of it is just blank.  So today, instead of trying to go back to that time of intense grief I am trying to live in the moments of joy that led up to it.

In April of 2012 I took a home pregnancy test and was thrilled to discover that I was once again pregnant.  My excitement was mixed with fear because I had recently suffered a miscarriage several months ago.  But mostly I was thrilled.  We quickly calculated what my due date was and I was due the week of Christmas.  This baby would be born just weeks after our daughter's second birthday.  I called my Midwife's office later that week to schedule our first appointment.

Our first appointment with the midwife was the last day in April.  I was 6 weeks pregnant and as sick as a dog.  Because of my previous pregnancy loss she offered us an ultrasound which we happily agreed to.  The ultrasound technician began and on the screen I couldn't see much, just two small black circles.  Within a couple of minutes she said the words that I will never forget, "Well, there are two".  Micah and I looked at each other and then asked her if she was sure.  She assured us that yes, there were in fact two little embryos and both had a strong heartbeat.  We got to hear of their hearts beating and it was music to my ears.  Twins were not something I ever thought would happen, but in that moment I felt so lucky.

We went back for another appointment the beginning of June.  I remember walking into the office that day terrified that we may have lost one or both of the babies.  When the ultrasound began and I could actually see two little babies squirming around I instantly felt relief and joy.  These two babies were growing inside of me and they looked healthy and amazing.  We were also told that day that the babies each had their own amniotic sac and placenta, which made it a much lower risk pregnancy.  That was good news.

By the time my next appointment rolled around it was the second week of July and I was almost 20 weeks along.  I was getting big, I already looked 30 plus weeks pregnant.  I couldn't wait to catch another glimpse of my twins during the big ultrasound, the anatomy scan.  If the babies were cooperative we would also be able to find out if we were having boys, girls or one of each.  By this ultrasound the babies had gotten so big you could no longer see them both on the screen at the same time.  The technician started with Baby A.  We got to hear the heartbeat again and she took measurement after measurement, everything looked perfect.  Then she asked if we wanted to know baby's sex, "Yes!" we both said.  "It's a boy"!  I remember crying a little at the excitement.  She then moved onto Baby B.  Once again we got to hear the heartbeat and all of the measurements looked perfect.  "This one's a girl"!  I cried again.  I couldn't have been happier than I was in that moment.  I already had one amazing daughter at home and I was being blessed with not just one healthy baby, but a son and a daughter.  I couldn't believe how lucky I was.

Over the next couple of days I finally began to feel fetal movement.  It had taken a long time since both of the twin's placentas were anterior, or located on the front which was blocking much of their movements.  By 20 weeks though, they had gotten big enough that I could feel them both.  My son was down low below my belly button and my daughter was up high.  Micah and I would often joke about me being pregnant with an octopus since there were eights little limbs in there.  Their kicks and punches were big enough for Micah to feel as well and we spent many nights sitting on the couch with his hands on my belly, one up high and one down low.  These short few weeks of anticipating the birth of my twin son and daughter were among the happiest of my life.  I couldn't wait to hold them in my arms, to watch my daughter Gwenevere become a big sister, to attempt breastfeeding two babies at once, to see my number of children triple in one moment.  My heart was about as full as it has ever been.

Three weeks after that ultrasound I went into labor.  But that moment forward I have rehashed enough.  It is those weeks and months before that I want to remember today.  Those magical moments when I got carry two lives inside of me.  Those appointments holding my husband's hand and seeing two babies that we made with love and listening to their hearts beat.  Those nights spent on the couch watching Mad Men and feeling my son and daughter squiggle and kick in my belly.  Having my one year old daughter walk up to me and touch my belly and say "Babies". The phone calls to our parents to tell them the double good news that we were pregnant with twins.  The reluctant shopping for minivans when we realized the difficulty of fitting three car seats into a sedan.  The buying of matching outfits and decorations for the nursery.  These are moments that I wouldn't trade for everything.  Even though I only had several short months carrying Penelope and James I will always cherish that time.  Tomorrow is their birthday and I will remember every amazing moment that I had with them.  Happy Birthday my lovely children, where ever you are I hope that you can feel all of the love I am sending your way.

Friday, July 25, 2014

21 Weeks

Today I am having a freak out day.  My emotions are running high as I get closer to the same point in this pregnancy as I was when I lost my twins. Today I am 21 weeks and 4 days.  I went into labor with Penelope and James at 22 weeks and 5 days.  Every little ache and twinge that I feel has me wanting to run to the hospital.  I try to breathe, stay calm and just relax.  I have been listening to my "Healthy Pregnancy" meditation CD frequently.  I looked over my "Preterm Labor Warning Signs" paper that hangs on my refrigerator today, it made me feel worse.  Some of the symptoms it lists include- Cramping (mild or severe), abdominal heaviness, feeling bad.  I'm pretty sure I've had all of those for the past few weeks.  I remember feeling all of those things with my first pregnancy as well though, and there was nothing wrong.  It's just so hard to sort out normal pregnancy feelings and preterm labor.

Earlier today while I was cleaning out our spare bedroom's closet I stumbled upon all of the ultrasound pictures from my pregnancy with the twins.  At first I felt so happy.  I had looked for those pictures this time last year only to come up empty handed.  I grieved intensely for losing such important mementos.  Now that they are found I am so so relieved.  I carefully looked over each picture, we have dozens.  The first pictures were taken when I was just 8 weeks pregnant and all you can see are two little amniotic sacs, each with a little spec in the middle labeled "Baby A" and "Baby B".  At our 12 week scan you can see that the sacs have gotten much bigger and in the middle of each is the beginning of an actual baby shape.  Then again at 16 weeks you can see two actual little babies.  Finally at our 20 week scan there was no longer room on the screen to see both babies at the same time.  We have some pictures of "Baby A", James and some pictures of "Baby B", Penelope.

After my initial reaction of joy upon finding this lost treasure another emotion swept over me, despair.  I remembered so clearly those appointments when we got to see our babies up on the ultrasound screen.  Our initial reaction of surprise when the technician told us there were two babies, to relief and joy every time we got to see them kicking around and hearing their hearts beat.  I remember at our 20 week appointment waiting with apprehension as the technician carefully measured each important organ, hearts, brain, kidneys, bone length.  Also that exciting moment when she told us that we were having one boy and one girl, I couldn't have been happier!  If you were to ask me before I had any children how many I would like to have and what genders they would be (if I could magically choose)  I would have said three, two girls and one boy.  My little family was going to be complete!

Today as I looked down at those ultrasound photos all of those memories came flooding back to me.  I became so angry and sad.  Why did my perfect family have to be taken away from me?  What did I do to deserve this pain?  As my crying continued my sweet daughter came and gave me hug.  At that moment I remembered all that I have to still be grateful for.  Almost two years after the loss of my twins I still have an amazing family.  My three year old is seriously the best kid that I have ever known.  My husband has proven time and time again to be the most caring, supportive and wonderful man that I have ever know.  And now I have this new life growing inside me once again.  She gives me hope.

I may never have what I once considered my "perfect" family.  This baby girl that I am now carrying is probably our last.  I will always grieve the loss of my twins.  But I know that the family I have right now is my new perfect.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

One Day at a Time

14 weeks and counting.  This pregnancy is crawling by, but every day I get a little bit closer.  I keep the thought fresh in my mind of holding this baby for the first time.  Seeing her beautiful face and holding her in my arms.  I try to fight back the thoughts that haunt me of what it's like to see your baby take their last breath.  The fear is real and it is present.  I have to constantly battle with my feelings of anxiety and worry.  Now that I am in the 2nd trimester this baby has become much more real to me, which is exciting but scary.

Most pregnant woman have a slight fear of "making it" through the first trimester, even more so if they have previously suffered a miscarriage.  It is pretty well known that many pregnancies end before making it to the second trimester.  Those first 12 weeks are when it is most common to suffer a miscarriage.  It is now believed that one in every four pregnancies will end in miscarriage, which is a terrifying statistic, especially when you are pregnant.  Most woman wait until at least 12 weeks into pregnancy to announce their pregnancy.  Most woman feel that at that point they have entered the "safe zone".  While the statistics for losing a baby do go down after the first trimester their is unfortunately no "safe zone", which many families have had to learn the hard way.

Since I have gone through my losses it has slightly angered me that it is expected of families to wait until the 2nd trimester to announce a pregnancy.  By not announcing the pregnancy it's like confirming to society that it's not real yet.  So if you are to lose that pregnancy there is nothing yet to grieve.  That is simply not fair.  It's not fair to all of those woman that have to return to work or interact with friends and pretend that nothing is wrong.  I was that woman after losing my second pregnancy at 10 weeks.  I called into work sick and when I returned I explained that I had to have a small surgery but everything was fine.  I don't know if any of my co-workers suspected what was actually going on, but nobody said anything.  I returned to work on my daughter's first birthday and I had to jump back in like nothing had ever happened.  It hurt, it still hurts.

Now that I have been through a later pregnancy loss I am one of the many parents that knows there is no "safe zone" in pregnancy.  I have seen too many families lose their babies well beyond 12 weeks, some even making it to 40 weeks.  I also know what a later pregnancy loss looks like, and it's not pretty.  It's messy, painful and heartbreaking.  It is seeing your dead baby and holding them in your arms wishing you could do something to help.  Being pregnant again and finding myself in the second trimester is terrifying.  Everyday with this pregnancy I wonder if this will be the last.  I don't have the typical thoughts of an expectant mother.  Instead of wanting to buy clothes for my baby to wear home from the hospital I find myself thinking about what things I can buy that we will put in this baby's memory box if she dies.  

Outwardly I am excited and positive about this pregnancy.  I am sharing our news with the world and picking out baby names.  I am putting ultrasound pictures on my refrigerator and talking to my daughter about her baby sister growing inside me.  I do all this because what I am really feeling is too scary and morbid.  The thoughts of where to put this baby's urn and what the funeral will be like.  I try hard to push these thoughts away.  Every day I fight a little battle with myself.  "I will bring this baby home, I will bring this baby home, I will bring this baby home" is my mantra.  I take each day as it comes and I know that every day that goes by I am one day closer to bringing this baby home.

Monday, May 26, 2014

** 10 weeks

When I was pregnant with my first daughter I was nothing but excited.  Even from weeks 6 to 12 when the morning sickness was in full gear I just couldn't wait to become a parent.  I nibbled on saltine crackers and apple slices feeling sick as a dog, but the whole time thinking "This is going to be so worth it in the end".  Boy was I right!  The day Gwenevere was born was perhaps the happiest day of my life.  All of that nausea and heartburn was definitely worth it.

Unfortunately with my twins I learned a hard lesson that sometimes it isn't worth it in the end.  When I was pregnant with them my morning sickness was literally twice as bad.  If I wasn't vomiting I was laying on the bathroom floor writhing with waves of nausea.  After two weeks of being unable to even care for my 1 year daughter I started taking prescription anti-nausea medication.  They helped enough.  I stopped vomiting but I still had constant nausea.  I was only able to eat apple slices, crackers and baby food purees of applesauce and pears (only with plastic spoons, because the metal taste made me gag).  Through it all I kept up my mantra "This is going to be so worth it in the end".  This time I had the anticipation of bringing home not just one baby, but two and I was trilled beyond belief.  Sadly, all I came home with from the hospital were flowers and two memory boxes filled with trinkets donated by volunteers.  In the end it was not worth it.

Now I find myself right in the midst of 1st trimester hell once again.  I am 10 weeks pregnant today, so I know if just a couple of short weeks the misery will be over.  I am once again on prescription anti nausea medication after being admitted to the hospital for dehydration.  I find myself wanting to go back to my mantra, but I can't.  I feel angry and bitter about this morning sickness.  I know that this could end in one of the happiest days of my life, or one of the saddest and I'm finding it hard to be optimistic.  I am ashamed to admit that the other day while crying I told my husband "I don't want to be pregnant".  It's not that I don't want this baby, I do.  It's just that I want to not be at this point.  Had our twins been born healthy and lived we would have been done having children.  I want to be there, not here.

I know that if we are able to make it to the end of this pregnancy and deliver a healthy baby I will fall so instantly and deeply in love all of this won't matter.  I will say that I would have been sick every day for a year if it meant having this baby.  I also know if this pregnancy doesn't result in a healthy baby my saddness and anger will just deepen.  I just don't know if I can handle that.  So while I can't really put my heart into it and believe, I will try.  "This is going to be so worth it in the end"!!

Healing a Broken Heart

Last week I read an article about healing from infant loss.  This is nothing new as I am constantly seeking out ways to heal my broken heart.  As far as I've come in the past 19 months, my heart still aches.  Unlike most of the articles I have read this one had a line in it that captured my attention.  It said, "If your broken heart is going to heal you have to give yourself permission to not think about your baby".  The article went on to explain that it's normal to think about your dead child/children all the time.  But sometimes it can be easy to become wrapped up in the what ifs. Since I read those words they have been whirling around in my brain.  Yes, I do need to give myself permission to not think about Penelope and James every day, every hour, every minute.  But giving myself permission and following through are different challenges. 

Several months after losing my twins it became pretty obvious that I was suffering from PTSD.  Whenever my eyes closed I would have vivid flash backs of the moments leading up to their death as well as watching them die.  I couldn't escape those images and thoughts.  I would often lay in bed at night fighting with my brain to just turn off.  I also became overwhelmed with anxiety that my living daughter would die.  Two months after we lost the twins my daughter had a severe allergic reaction to cashews.  Watching her sweet little face swell up with hives as I held her in my arms giving her an emergency breathing treatment in the urgent care was almost more than I could take.  Riding in the ambulance listening to her cries and feeling helpless.  For the weeks and months following her allergy attack I struggled.  I couldn't eat meals with her for fear that she would react to something.  I would constantly lift her shirt to scan her for hives and if I saw anything she got a benedryl. With lots of time and the help of a great therapist I was able to work through my intense anxiety.  I still worry, it's hard not to.  But the intense feelings have faded.

To help relieve my PTSD and anxiety I had to give myself permission to feel it.  When I felt the anxiety rushing over me I had to do the opposite of what I wanted to do, and just let it happen.  Instead of running upstairs while my daughter was eating I would sit at the kitchen table and  feel everything and let it run it's course.  I learned not to fight it, not to block it out, but to accept it.  By accepting the feelings, knowing that in a few minutes they would get better, I was able to get through it.  Now those moments come so infrequently that I have almost forgotten about it.

Now that I am through most of my struggles with anxiety I find myself trying to give myself permission to live my life.  This is a really hard step for me to take.  I'm sure it's a step that many people think I should have taken long ago.  But the truth is that up until this point I haven't been ready.  I knew from day one that this grieving process would be a timely one for me.  But I feel like I am there.  I am at the point where I am ready, not to forget my son and daughter, but live life like they never got a chance to.  I know it will still be a slow process.  I have begun to put little things away that remind me of them, which has been really hard.  In some ways I feel like I'm disrespecting them.  But I also know that they will always be in my heart regardless of how many photographs I have around the house.  Penelope and James were loved, they are loved, and they will always be loved.  I give myself permission to trust my love for them and not think about them.

Thursday, March 13, 2014

The Future

What I wouldn't do for a crystal ball right now.  I would love to look ahead and see what my life will look like in five or ten years.  I want to know what my family will look like.  So much of my stress and anxiety is spent worrying and wondering what direction my life is heading.  Will I ever have another healthy baby again?

If the answer is yes, I could rejoice.  I could relax and celebrate in knowing that we will once again experience the miracle of giving birth to a healthy beautiful baby.  I could relish these last few months/years of having my daughter as my only child.  Truly engaging in my life as it is and enjoying every moment.  I could stop the constant worry and wondering if she is it.  I could breath a sigh of relief and relax.  I could move forward with my life.

If the answer is no, I could handle that.  I could grieve a little bit more and start to focus on enjoying my family of three.  I could really spend every moment just enjoying where we are and taking in everything.  I could stop wondering when I ovulated and when I should take a pregnancy test.  I could prepare myself for mothering an only child and stop worrying about how old she'll be when we bring a new baby home.  I could plan trips, big trips.  Not having to wonder if I might be pregnant and if I'll be on bed rest.  I could give away our enormous stock pile of baby gear.  Empty the nursery and turn it into a reading room.  I could drink wine whenever I wanted to and not worry if I am maybe 3-4 weeks pregnant.  I could move forward with my life.

Instead I am stuck in the wondering.  In my mind I am constantly bouncing back and forth between two people.  The person that will once again welcome a baby into our family and the person that has to accept that our family is complete.  I know there is no real reason to believe that I will not be able to have another baby.  I have done it once, very successfully in my opinion.  I carried a baby to 39 weeks with no problems.  But it's so hard to forget the other pregnancies.  The three pregnancies, four babies that ended with empty arms and tears.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Back To Square One

*This post was written 2/2/14

Eleven days ago I found out I was pregnant.  I paced back and forth in the kitchen waiting for the results of a home pregnancy test.  When I checked it there were the two pink lines.  Not being one to always trust just one test I bought a digital test the following day.  There in bold letters was the word "Pregnant".  This was it, we were actually pregnant once again.  To say it has taken a lot of courage to get to this point is an understatement.  It took my husband and I over a year following the birth and death of Penelope and James to even think we were ready to try again.  But here we are, ready to face the fear.

For about two days I felt optimistic about this pregnancy.  Surely with everything we've gone through this would be okay.  Then on Saturday morning, the panic set in.  I woke up at 3am with thoughts racing through my head.  I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep to I went downstairs, made a cup of Sleepy Time tea, lay on the couch and settled in for a mini marathon of "The League".  After several hours I drifted back to sleep and what seemed like moments later was woken up by my husband asking why I wasn't in bed.  I then went to the bathroom and my heart sank, I was spotting.  I remembered having some spotting with all of my other pregnancies so I tried not to panic.  But I also prepared for the worst.  It was the weekend so I knew I couldn't talk to my OB without calling the emergency line.  So I cried a little and just went ahead with my weekend hoping for the best.

By Monday morning the spotting had stopped and I decided to call my OB anyway.  The nurse recommended having my levels drawn just to check and make sure the pregnancy was progressing as it should.  I had my blood drawn on Monday and again on Wednesday.  Each day that went by I felt increasingly confident that maybe everything would be okay.  Thursday morning I got a call from the nurse with my lab results, they didn't look good.  My hcg was going up, but not nearly at the rate that they would like it to.  So they sent me in once again to get my blood drawn on Friday.  I was given a number that I could call that evening to find out the results.

All day on Friday I kept bouncing back and forth as to whether or not this pregnancy was viable.  In some ways I was already grieving, assuming that this was a miscarriage.  At other times I was hopeful, thinking that maybe my numbers were just a slow start and surely this lab would show a great increase.  I called the number at 7pm, right after getting home from my daughter's first dance class.  The woman on the phone gave me the my number, my hcg had gone down.  My mouth got dry and I felt a lump in my throat.  I said thank you and hung up the phone.  I went downstairs and told Micah the news.  He hugged my for at least two minutes.  We didn't say anything to each other.  My three year old continued to play in the family room completely oblivious to our loss.

Today I am feeling many things; sadness, disappointment, anger, unfairness, numb, relieved. Mostly I find myself wondering why.  Why did this happen?  Because this loss happened so early I am not really mourning the loss of a baby.  This was most likely a blighted ovum, which means the fertilized egg implanted but never started developing into a baby.  I am mourning the fact that the small amount of hope I had left seems to be gone.  We will try again, but I have very little faith that we will have another healthy baby.  I know that logically it is possible, but right now it feels hopeless.