I walk in and am greeted by my stylist. She asks me how I’m doing and I say fine, but it’s a lie. While she’s washing my hair, she asks me what my plans are for today. I freeze…I scramble to think of something. I clear my throat to clear the lump that’s formed and I say, Netflix probably and close my eyes. She doesn’t need to know that in 2 hours I’m going to the doctor to discuss how to end my very much wanted, non-viable pregnancy and that it’s slowly killing me inside. That I am at the salon because anger has recently surfaced and I don’t want my family, who I love, to be on the receiving side of my wrath.
We continue to make small talk in the chair about tacos, while the woman next to me ironically (maybe unironically, I was never good with irony) talks about her pregnancy very loudly. How she went into her ultrasound and she immediately heard the heartbeat even though she thought it was too early, that it even had fingers and toes, and was surprisingly already in the second trimester. It shattered me, as I was tempted to cradle my very small bump.
I didn’t want to write about this because I don’t want others to think it’s for sympathy or attention, but what’s needed is awareness and understanding. As a writer, I feel like it’s my due diligence to use my words to bring to light the pain many women suffer in silence. Maybe you or someone you know struggles with infertility or recurring loss.
I was very open with our struggles trying to conceive Amelia and we even shared our journey through the first year of prematurity. But this journey is usually a silent one, which just further adds to the darkness. Only around 1% of women struggle with recurring pregnancy loss.
Our first recent loss (this go around, I had previous losses while trying to conceive Amelia) was last May, I was struggling to keep up with my grandpas care. It wasn’t the most ideal time, but I couldn’t argue with the bright light it provided. Many will agree that as soon as those 2 lines appear, you start daydreaming of nursery shopping, who they will look like, and ultimately who they will be. But less than a week later it was over, but I didn’t have time to grieve because less than a month later, we would be grieving the loss of my grandpa and our family dog.
In February, I started a new job. I thought it was stress at first, but found out I was pregnant again. The chances of having a healthy pregnancy after a miscarriage is around 85%. I went to the dr and my progesterone was very low, she said she could already tell the pregnancy was not viable. A week later, it was over again.
The chances of conceiving after a miscarriage is greater in the 3 months following and a healthy pregnancy after 2 losses is over 75%. I took a test at the beginning of April, it was blaring positive, unlike the previous ones. This was our chance, it was already different. I went to the dr, she said everything looked great. My hormones were finally doing what they were supposed to. Symptoms started showing up, morning sickness is a sign of a healthy pregnancy. We went in for the first ultrasound, the most exciting part. We had thrown caution to the wind because we had surpassed the obstacles that stood in our way the last 2 times. We discussed names, and I had even knitted a baby hat and started on a blanket. But during the ultrasound I stared at the screen and knew it wasn’t right…there was an empty sac. She said it was normal for being so early, and maybe my dates were wrong. Which was likely. So we would come back in a week.
The week long wait was nothing short of excruciating. I’m a glass half empty kind of girl, and my cup never is truly empty It’s my mind trying to protect itself. I reminded myself as we walked into the ultrasound room. But again, I stared at the same image as last week. We should have seen something, possibly even a heartbeat. But it was still empty. I was empty too. I tried to hold back tears while Amelia kept asking “why is mom sad, dad?” I watch women smiling with their round bellies and black and white pictures of their little miracles. They called me back to the 3rd door on the left, she asked me to provide a urine sample, but I lashed out, “what’s the point?”
The dr explained I more than likely have a “blighted ovum.” The world’s biggest, cruelest hoax. My body believes I’m still pregnant, the sac continues to grow, the placenta still forming, which means continued morning sickness, cravings, mood swings, and my tiny bump is still growing even though our baby stopped developing at the very basic cellular level weeks ago. But the Dr gave me hope, which I held onto tightly while they ran blood work, but made the final blow almost unbearable.
So now I’m sitting here in my car outside of the salon, 7 1/2 weeks pregnant, but not really. I’m not growing life, just an empty home where a baby should be. In 2 hours I have to make a decision how to end a pregnancy that was hoped for, and oh so very wanted. I can wait for my body to figure it out, take medication or have surgery. But I don’t want any…I just somehow want things to be different.
The stages of grief are so hard to navigate. I was swimming in the sea of denial which was a decent place to be, but today anger finally surfaced which is so much worse.
But I will take it hour by hour at first, until it becomes day to day. I don’t know what my future holds, or if we will add to our family but I know that no one should suffer in silence. So if you find yourself dealing with any loss, be kind to yourself while you grieve. Remember that you can be happy for others and sad for yourself. I have a beautiful new nephew and another niece or nephew on the way, who I love so much. Emotions are not either/or, several can reside in your heart simultaneously. For me writing has saved me over and over again, and hopefully sharing my story heals.
Love Always
Xoxo
