Oh the places I'll go

Our 1st Baby Announcement

I could write about the amazing trip the hubs and I just took to SE Asia, but the places I've been in my heart lately are far more interesting to me.

On Sunday, March 22 2015, I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I had been sick all weekend with a head cold, and Corey kept bugging me that I was pregnant. He was right. We were elated. My first call was to my sister, Sarah, quickly followed by one to sister Becca.

It was very early to find out. I was 9dpo (days past ovulation), which means about 4 weeks pregnant - which really means about 2 weeks. Why in the world do they insist on counting pregnancy weeks from the first day of your last period if you know when you ovulated? crazy.

We waited another week to tell the rest of our families and closest friends, but couldn't contain the excitement and shared it online shortly after. Sharing the news so early freaked some people out, but that's how I do life - open and messy.

By the end of the 5th week I was nauseous in the mornings and late afternoons. I felt like I had the flu most afternoons, but I never lost my lunch (or 2nd or 3rd lunch). The sleepiness was powerful and the emotions were flying, but I knew it was all for good reason -- for our first baby.

Our first midwife appointment was scheduled for Friday, May 1st, when I was 9 weeks pregnant. I was anxious and eager for that appointment and praying they'd give me an ultrasound. I wanted to hear the heartbeat and see the baby - I wanted the fact that a little person was growing inside me to feel more real. The afternoon of the 1st I started to spot. It was pretty light, but there's nothing a pregnant woman wants to see less. I tried not to panic, but while I laid down to take a nap I felt these tiny sharp pains in my lower back that kept my mind from peace. I clung to what I knew from my extensive (obsessive?) online research: cramps and aches in your abdomen and back are a normal part of pregnancy - your body is getting ready for baby to grow.

The midwife was generally positive about my exam, but wanted me to have an ultrasound just to check on things since I was spotting a little. They sent me to the hospital, but instructed me to stop and get a giant bottled water and drink it all first. I was so anxious that my stomach began to churn and I barely made it from the car into the restroom at Whole Foods.

I drank the 32 ounces of Smart Water only to be told by the ultrasound tech that it wasn't enough. Now, I have a bladder of steel. I can hold it for an entire day if I have to, but being told you can't pee and that you need to keep drinking must be a form of torture. I nearly puked drinking those few cups of water in the waiting room, but I was determined to see our baby.

The ultrasound was in a dimly lit room and the tech barely looked at me. My heart was racing. Corey could see the screen, but was useless when pumped for information after she left the room. I kept wishing I had shown him more of the 9 week ultrasound photos I'd found online.

The tech came back into the room and handed us the phone to speak with an on-call midwife. She explained that they didn't see a fetal pole (heartbeat), but that they couldn't say definitely that it wasn't a viable pregnancy because my dating could be off and it could still be too early. Honestly, I don't remember everything she said because I was in a state of total panic. Surely, she wasn't telling me bad news... right? She told me to go into the office on Monday to have my blood drawn so they could see if my HCG (preg hormone) had increased. It should double every 48 hours.

That was the longest weekend of.my.life. I spent most of it on the internet - not helpful - and swinging back and forth between totally crushed and grasping at tidbits of information for hope. After all, women bleed ALL the time during pregnancy and have a healthy baby.

On Sunday, I had some heavy bleeding and called the on-call midwife who just happened to be the one who examined me on Friday. She told me they believed I was miscarrying the baby - or in her words, "it's what we call fetal demise." Medical terminology for baby making is horrible, by the way. Her assessment of the ultrasound report was that the baby measured 6 weeks 2 days and that even with dating off there should have been a visible heartbeat.

I got my blood drawn the next morning and waited until 6pm for the results. SO. MUCH. WAITING. My HCG count had dropped by 1000 points. It was 23k, which the nurse that morning said is very high and a good sign. But even such a small drop was not okay. The high levels of HCG explain why I was so sick.

Our baby died at 6 weeks 2 days, but we didn't know for 3 more weeks. It's called a missed or silent miscarriage. My body didn't get the message when the baby died. It was really difficult to believe my baby was gone when I had been so sick for so many weeks after he/she died. Wouldn't I know if my baby died??

Three weeks of celebrating that little life that was already over. We only had two months to dream of their future, but it was long enough to break our hearts when it was taken away. The excitement over a Christmastime baby was gone. The hope of winter maternity leave with a dear friend who was 2 weeks behind us was shattered. The anticipation of giving our first baby a name that would honor beloved members of our families was halted. Our first baby died before I ever saw them on a monitor, felt them kick, or knew if they were a boy or a girl. I loved that sweet being with my whole heart and not a day goes by that I don't think about him/her.

The midwife told me that it could take weeks for me to naturally complete the miscarriage since my hormone levels were so high. My options were to wait for that or to undergo a procedure (D&C) to remove the baby and tissue. The same procedure for an abortion.

I had a friend years earlier who had shared with me during her miscarriage and the experience sounded horrible and it dragged on for weeks. I'm not one for discomfort and I wanted to heal so we could get pregnant as soon as possible, so I chose the D&C at the hospital with anesthesia. The appointment was scheduled for Thursday, May 7th. It wasn't lost on me that Mother's Day was Sunday, May 10th.

I was supposed to be with my new team at a huge work conference in downtown Boston, but instead I was checking in for day surgery to remove my baby.

They took me into pre-op and I realized it was the first time I'd ever been in a hospital bed that was for me. I had on a gown and those little slip proof socks and I cried. I cried as I laid in the place where I had seen my mom lay too many times. I cracked jokes about the crappy plastic pillows and cried as they put in my IV and realized that even with the best insertion, IVs hurt. I missed my mom and my unborn baby's future. I missed my innocence and naivety.

My dear husband, Corey, held my hand and cried with me. Oh what a gift from a loving God!

The doctor came in gently and introduced herself, reached out to touch my hand, looked me in the eye, and said, "I'm so sorry for your loss." She then turned to Corey and said the same to him. We both cried.

The procedure took less than 30 minutes. Beforehand, they told us that it was a busy day and that Corey wouldn't be able to come to the recovery area, but they'd call him when I was ready to go home. As they wheeled me back to recovery and my head quickly cleared I began to cry. It was the saddest feeling - I was alone looking across the room at an older woman on her side recovering from her own ordeal, and I cried for my baby. The nurse called the doctor over who wanted to know if I was in pain, but all I could eek out was, "I'm sad." The nurse tried to comfort me by sharing how she and her sister had had miscarriages and that it happens to most women and that I'm young and healthy and I'll get pregnant again. I stopped crying so she would go away.

They called Corey and he rushed back from an outing to nearby Harvard Square. I sobbed as he embraced me and then we sat until they released me an hour later.

The recovery from the D&C was easy and quick. My sister, Becca, came up from New York City to help make the Mother's Day weekend go by faster. I'm so glad she did. Many of my pregnancy symptoms went away after a few days, but some remained a little longer.

In the past 3 months since we lost our baby and while we continue to wait for our next positive pregnancy test, my heart has been filled with swaying emotions. I've felt angry, bitter envy, guilt, hope, disappointment, hope again... all while trying to remember and believe in my real hope > Jesus.

Is Jesus enough if I never get pregnant again? Is Jesus enough if something happens to Corey? -- with all these crazy hormones I've spent an unnecessary amount of time panicking over what if something happens to Corey... super helpful. not really. Is Jesus enough if I never live near my sisters again? Is Jesus enough?

I wish I had the faith to say a resounding yes to all those questions. But for today, I have hope that through the wilderness seasons of life God will continue to gently and faithfully bring me to each yes.

We are hopeful for future babies, but will always remember our first and thank God for their brief time with us.

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,

  and he delivered them from their distress.

He made the storm be still,

  and the waves of the sea were hushed.

Then they were glad that the waters were quiet,

  and he brought them to their desired haven.

Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,

  for his wondrous works to the children of man! 

Pslams 107: 28-31