Recurrent pregnancy loss is a weird little thing. It never ends. There is no shitty thing that happened that you can move on from because every month, we feel those emotions fresh again when we are once again not pregnant. This month, September, was the month we were supposed to have our first baby. We should be sleep deprived and stunned with the joy and mess that comes from such a small human being. We should be celebrating a new life but are instead mourning something that never existed.
Each pregnancy that we have had, there is someone that we know who is going to have a baby. Each pregnancy that we have had, someone else is having a baby when we should be having one. Each pregnancy we have had, someone else got the good and we got the bad.
We are still not pregnant. We are still not parents. We are still infertile yet fertile. We still have no explanation except shitty luck.
It is ok to mourn. I decided to read the book of Job. Job's sons and daughters all died on the same day, he lost a large majority of his servants, and his flock/wealth in one shitty day that GOD ALLOWED. And Job's response when he heard the news was to tear all his clothes off and say "Naked from my mother's womb I came and naked will I return. The Lords gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."
He literally lost all of his children and praised the name of the Lord immediately? How powerful and beautiful. That's been my mantra the past couple days. The Lord gave. The Lord took away. (The Lord is in control and I don't understand the plan and I may never even know the plan much less understand it.). Blessed be the name of the Lord.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
Reasons To Run
First post of a new blog. I haven't written anything, even a journal, in so very long. My writing skills are most likely a little rusty, so hopefully I don't look back at this later and grimace.
However, the purpose of me starting this blog is not to work on my writing skills or be graceful/appealing. This is purely for me and learning how to cope with the loss of recurrent miscarriages.
For several years, I have thought that I would never want kids. Seeing others around me do it and working in pediatrics made me think it was a thankless task that only brought stress and angst. Steve and I were busy settling into our careers, new house, new community and new life following years of education. We always would say "Next year" or "When we hit 29" or "When we hit 30". Then we started traveling and those statements started trailing off-I couldn't imagine giving up seeing new parts of our world just to be miserable.
Last year, we finally decided we were ready. IUD out, ready to get this family thing started. The next several months were a mixture of anticipation, frustration and relief (at least for me) when my period would arrive. Yep, frustration and relief. I wasn't ready to give it all up. Finally, we got frustrated and really tried hard to get pregnant (contrary to all my pregnant teenage patients, it doesn't just "happen" overnight for us old folks).
To our surprise and delight, we found that we were pregnant just after New Year's Day. We were thrilled and notified both of our parents quickly. I made my appointment with the only ob/gyn practice in town and started awaiting our first appointment at almost 12 weeks gestation.
The next few weeks were not all stress free and beautiful. Our house had several repair issues and we were dealing with that and the cost associated. There were some family drama, if I am remembering right. However, we were buoyed by the fact that we had a beautiful secret.
Then, I began spotting. Light at first, and it would come and go. I called the new ob and they reassured me over the phone that it was normal and to call back if it didn't stop. It didn't stop. I called back a few days later and they told me to go to the ER. They wouldn't even see me in the office, despite the fact that I was stable and asymptomatic. I called an OB I had seen in Grand Junction for a routine well woman exam and they ordered bloodwork over the phone (and agreed with me that an ED visit was unnecessary).
The next few days were fraught with anxiety. My bloodwork was not bad or good-it was in the middle. We headed in to the OB for an ultrasound, which we all (including the ob and his nurse) were expecting not to yield any positive results. However, an embryo with a perfect heartbeat was found immediately. I was measuring just a couple days behind (common) and we were all "cautiously optimistic".
We foolishly called many of our family and friends and shared the news.
I began bleeding in earnest a few weeks after that US, when I was 9 weeks along. My HCG dropped in half-miscarriage.
However, the purpose of me starting this blog is not to work on my writing skills or be graceful/appealing. This is purely for me and learning how to cope with the loss of recurrent miscarriages.
For several years, I have thought that I would never want kids. Seeing others around me do it and working in pediatrics made me think it was a thankless task that only brought stress and angst. Steve and I were busy settling into our careers, new house, new community and new life following years of education. We always would say "Next year" or "When we hit 29" or "When we hit 30". Then we started traveling and those statements started trailing off-I couldn't imagine giving up seeing new parts of our world just to be miserable.
Last year, we finally decided we were ready. IUD out, ready to get this family thing started. The next several months were a mixture of anticipation, frustration and relief (at least for me) when my period would arrive. Yep, frustration and relief. I wasn't ready to give it all up. Finally, we got frustrated and really tried hard to get pregnant (contrary to all my pregnant teenage patients, it doesn't just "happen" overnight for us old folks).
To our surprise and delight, we found that we were pregnant just after New Year's Day. We were thrilled and notified both of our parents quickly. I made my appointment with the only ob/gyn practice in town and started awaiting our first appointment at almost 12 weeks gestation.
The next few weeks were not all stress free and beautiful. Our house had several repair issues and we were dealing with that and the cost associated. There were some family drama, if I am remembering right. However, we were buoyed by the fact that we had a beautiful secret.
Then, I began spotting. Light at first, and it would come and go. I called the new ob and they reassured me over the phone that it was normal and to call back if it didn't stop. It didn't stop. I called back a few days later and they told me to go to the ER. They wouldn't even see me in the office, despite the fact that I was stable and asymptomatic. I called an OB I had seen in Grand Junction for a routine well woman exam and they ordered bloodwork over the phone (and agreed with me that an ED visit was unnecessary).
The next few days were fraught with anxiety. My bloodwork was not bad or good-it was in the middle. We headed in to the OB for an ultrasound, which we all (including the ob and his nurse) were expecting not to yield any positive results. However, an embryo with a perfect heartbeat was found immediately. I was measuring just a couple days behind (common) and we were all "cautiously optimistic".
We foolishly called many of our family and friends and shared the news.
I began bleeding in earnest a few weeks after that US, when I was 9 weeks along. My HCG dropped in half-miscarriage.
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