I don't think you can ever prepare yourself for the words "there is no heartbeat" or the words the doctor speaks about how your baby isn't growing as expected, or the worst line, "this pregnancy will not continue." I was 7 weeks along with no signs of anything being wrong. That first ultrasound appointment was supposed to be the best day. It turned into the worst and it came without warning. We were told to come back in a week and then we would know for sure. The doctor thought maybe our dates were off - they weren't. I thought maybe they just couldn't see the baby because I have a tilted uterus- that wasn't it- even though Google told me it was. We got in the car after that first appointment and I lost it. Chris kept saying that we were coming back in a week so I shouldn't lose hope, but I knew. I couldn't breathe, my mind was racing. Uncontrollable tears streaming down my face. Our appointment was at 9am and we were back in the car at 9:30. Our whole world turned upside down in less than 30 minutes. How? The amount of emotional pain I felt that day was unbearable. And sitting in our 90 degree garage were 40 unopened boxes of flowers for the biggest wedding of my year the next day. I bypassed them, went upstairs, threw up from the stress, and climbed into bed. Chris didn't know what to do. he put a blanket over me and lay next to me. I felt so lost. Our positive pregnancy tests were still on the bathroom counter and all I kept thinking about was the day we found out we were going to be parents. It was May 10th and after being begged by a close friend to take a pregnancy test, I took 2 and those faint pink lines showed up right away. I ran downstairs and basically shoved them in Chris' face. "Do you see them!?" I asked. (more like screamed) He did. He saw them too. I was noticeably shaking and told him we were pregnant and he gave my the biggest bear hug. Our fertility journey was supposed to be a long one. All kinds of doctors- OBGYN's, Endocrinologists, Reproductive Endocrinologists thought for sure this would be an uphill battle for us. But there we were standing in the downstairs bathroom hugging in disbelief that they were wrong. We took a digital test that night and recorded the moment it popped up with "pregnant" I will always treasure that little video. Our baby was going to be born in January. How perfect was that?! No weddings and a joyful thought at how special our last Christmas would be just the two of us later this year.
Life was painting a pretty incredible picture for us and I was so thankful. The pregnancy symptoms came right away and I welcomed them with open arms. The last month was truly the happiest. We didn't tell many people. Really just Chris' parents and a few close friends because we knew miscarriage could be a possibility, but I really didn't think we'd be a part of those terrible statistics. The only things we bought were baby moccasins (that matched Dad's) and a football hat since the baby would be born right around playoffs. They now sit in a drawer downstairs and I don't think I will ever be able to look at them again.
Our follow up appointment was on June 9th and I had the biggest lump in my throat walking into the ultrasound room. I almost didn't want to be there. I didn't think I could handle it. And with Chris squeezing my hand we knew within seconds that we were looking at the same thing. Our baby had died weeks prior and my pregnancy would not continue. We headed into our fertility doctor's office and I wanted everyone to leave. I wanted to be alone. And although I held myself together for our conversation with our doctor, I was screaming inside. Everything tuned so medical and technical and inside my heart was breaking into a million pieces and I felt like I was dying. I became a mother at the first sight of those pink lines, thoughts of names and nursery colors flooded my mind and in one moment it was all taken away. We didn't just lose a baby. We lost first steps, christmas mornings, loose teeth, and birthdays. We'll never know what our baby was going to look like or what their personality was going to be. Would he or she have my terrible singing skills?, Chris' photogenic smile?, brown eyes or blue? And here we were talking about how to go about ending these curiosities and dreams. Our doctor went on to explain why I was still having pregnancy symptoms. The baby had stopped growing, but the gestational sac and placenta had not and they are the things that create the pregnancy hormone HCG which gives you symptoms. My body was tricking me and I was experiencing something called a missed miscarriage. I was all of a sudden a statistic... pushed into this club that no woman wants to be a part of. I prayed for it to change right there in our doctor's office (and a million more times since then). With all his plaques on the wall, a trophy from Men's Health naming him Man of the Year 2007- Our amazing doctor could fix this right?! No, no one can fix this. I am now 1 out of 5 or in the 20% of pregnancies that end in miscarriage. 1% being missed miscarriages. I was given three options to go forward. The first being a surgical procedure called D&C (no thanks), the second was to wait naturally which both my OBGYN and RE said could take weeks since the gestational sac was still growing, or the third option which I ended up taking was a medically induced miscarriage via a series of pills. Three options and no good choice. Our baby was gone and my body was still holding on, similarly to my heart. The pills weren't supposed to work right away, I was told it would take a few rounds and possibly longer than a week for them to do their job. I got the ok for the pills the day after our last ultrasound and I couldn't bring myself to pick them up from the pharmacy. I believed the doctors, but for some reason I just couldn't take them right away and get rid of something that was so beautiful and made us so happy for 8 weeks. I finally picked them up Sunday morning (my birthday) and because I was informed that the first day I would feel nothing, I took the first 2. Well, I guess my body is different because they worked and by midnight I had passed (sorry tmi) all the crazy stuff. Yes, it was very painful. The doctor gave my Percocet to get through it and Chris bought me the world's best heating pad. And weirdly, in the moments after the "pregnancy contents" came out, I didn't feel pregnant anymore and that was really hard to take in. It was a terrible empty feeling of it actually being over. I had known for days that this was going to end, but in that moment in the middle of the night, it was real. I was no longer pregnant and it was my 31st birthday. (Of all days.)
I will never unknow what it feels like to be told your baby will not be born. The words the doctor said will be forever ingrained in my memory. The past almost 2 weeks have been the most painful, devastating, confusing, heartbreaking, and loneliest weeks I have ever lived. I wish love was enough to help a baby grow, but I learned that it's not and even though you can do all the right things and believe everything is perfect, sometimes it's not. I have cried more tears than ever in my life and have been the loneliest I have been. But over the last almost 2 weeks, I've somehow gained acceptance. Acceptance that this is part of our journey and that we will get through this. This has forever altered me and in time I am sure I will see the good ways this has changed our life. I truly believe there is a silver lining in learning your own strength. And that wedding I had the day after our first ultrasound, it got done and it was beautiful. And I'm so thankful for that wedding in a way because it taught me to keep going. Which funny enough is my phrase of the year. Who knew it would have such deep and profound meaning half way through 2016.
Chris has been my rock through all of this. You never really understand the words "in good times or bad" until you're faced with truly sad or difficult times. I've had to keep reminding myself that this isn't just happening to me, it's both of us. I've learned that we both grieve differently and we both have to tell each other what we need from one another because we're not mind readers. We've learned a lot about our marriage the last two weeks and I'm thankful that this has made it stronger. I feel that there will be times in life where you are shown exactly why you were given this other person to do all of life's things with and I'm so glad to have to the person I do.
I'm not super religious, but in a weird way this has brought me closer to God. I'm not angry at Him for taking our baby, it gives me comfort to know we will meet our little one in heaven one day. And I'm holding on to the thought that God's plan is better than our own even though we can't see it or understand. Miscarriage is death, but it's not a normal death like a family member, friend, or pet where you have others grieving with you. It's a lonely pain. A pain that you go through with just your husband. Miscarriage brings with it all the agonizing grief that comes with losing a loved one, but there are no funerals, no memorials, and you don't get sympathy cards. Instead everyone's lives go on as normal after you tell them the sad news when it's so hard for you to just get dressed in the morning.
I'm so thankful for brave women putting their stories out there because it's helped me so much. That's why I am sharing our story today. Believe me, it took some time to decide to write this all out. (and I'm guessing if you're reading this I hit the publish button) But in the end, if this helps one person know they are not alone, then it's worth it. I also wanted to honor our baby with sharing our story. Chris and I both believed that it would help us grieve if we honored the life we created. Chris and I were going to wait until our baby's birth to find out the gender, but early on we had a inkling that this baby was a boy. I don't really know why, it was just a deep feeling we had. Chris loves the name Alexander and even though for the past month I have fought him on it, Alexander has such a meaningful connection to this baby that we agreed that is what his name is. And even if it's silly, it makes me feel better knowing that we have a son named Alexander in heaven. And though I still have days (like today) where everything hurts and I don't think the pain will ever go away, I know that it won't be like this forever. I think the key is to find a balance between giving yourself the time you need to grieve and be sad, but remember to keep going one day at a time until those days turn into weeks and the weeks into months when finally the pain dulls and the tears dry up.
For now I want to celebrate baby A and the short time that he brought us the most happiness I have ever felt. And for that happiness I am so thankful. And I just want you to know if this has happened to you that you are not alone. The conversation about miscarriage needs to stop being so taboo and it needs to start happening. Women shouldn't have to suffer in silence.
Alexander, you are so loved.
Warmly,
Michelle
