Remembering and Waiting Still- From Conception to Miscarriage

I know it has been quite some time since I posted here. It was my intention to announce on the first day of my second trimester that our treatments worked and that we would be expecting our bundle in February. I had hoped to turn the subject from infertility to the joys ( and some times pains) of pregnancy.

I made this very shortly after finding out we were expecting, the day before my husbands 31st birthday. I began a journal that day so that I would pull out entries for later blogging. Below is one of those entries.


"At last! Although I feel like complete garbage today is a day for celebration! For the last two nights I thought I was riddled with the flu. I couldn't eat or sleep and I just wanted my period to come so I could start taking cold medicine. The day before my period was due (May 29th) I decided I couldn't take it anymore and needed some DayQuil. So at 4:00 AM I shuffled my sad sick self to the bathroom and took a dollar store pregancy test ( even though I made myself swear that I wouldn't take another test until I was a few days late). I pulled the DayQuil out of the closet and texted my boss that I wouldn't make it in the morning while I waited those horrible 3 minutes. Then BAM! I picked up the test and was dumbfounded. A solid, no squinting, POSITIVE. I was skeptical to say the least. I showed my husband and told him it was dollar store test. This made him skeptical as well. I sent a picture of the test to my sister and told her not to get too excited. As soon as I was able to pull myself together, I headed to the CVS to get a more reliable test. (I actually got two...just in case). The tests we unanimous and celebration ensued."

 Because I am crazy, I took a few after that too...just to make sure it was real. A few weeks later we announced to my parents in a very thought-out and video tapped fashion. We were all on cloud nine. Then came the first ultrasound. A happy healthy little peanut not only had a strong heartbeat but was "raising the roof".

Once a heartbeat is seen (and especially movement) your risk for miscarriage goes way down. So based on that information we opened the flood gates and told everyone who would listen. My work couldn't have been more supportive and everyone around us felt our excitement.

Weeks went by and I continued to write in my Journal. I struggled with the "morning sickness" which came mostly at night and the thought of meat passing through my lips was unbearable. I lost some weight but not enough that the doctors were concerned. The only real concern came from my blood pressure which was continually elevated so we began to monitor that closely. I passed my first glucose test with flying colors and our little one even developed fingers and toes.

A week or so after my vast blood panel, I got a call from the nurse telling me some unfortunate news. One of my tests came back positive and I would need to begin seeing a specialist. I had contracted Fifths which can cause heart failure in a very low percentage of pregnancies. My levels were very high so they wanted to be safe. They scared me to death. I was told don't worry the "odds are in your favor" like some sick Hunger Games reference. After a good cry and tons of wallowing I held my chin up and tried to remain positive. We warned our family, friends, and co-workers that I was now a "high-risk" pregnancy. My husband took it harder than I did, I think he was preparing himself for the worst.

A few weeks later ( which was the soonest the specialist could see me) I went in with my mother to do some additional testing and get a new "schedule". Usually they increase the monitoring of mom and baby when you have Fifths. I was well read and thought I knew what to expect. Mom and I joked with the the front desk and the technician. Then came the moment my whole world flipped. Up on the screen was my perfect little one, so much bigger than the last time I saw him or her, but not moving at all. I saw no fluttering heart, no "roof raising", nothing. The tech was silent. I felt it immediately. My baby was gone. The tech left to get the doctor ( red flag number 3) and I turned to my mother and said "this is really bad, I didn't see the heart." She tried to reassure but I knew it was too late. The doctor came back and then she said those horrible words. "I'm sorry, you may have noticed, your baby has passed."

It is an unimaginable pain that rips through you. Truly, it can not be described. It was a shock to everyone, including the doctor who thought it would be a routine visit. I was moved to the break-room because the specialist is not like your normal OB's office- they were unprepared. She began running through facts and theories and although I know she meant to comfort me - it was cold. I left the talking to my mother and sat their trying to figure out how I was going to tell my husband. I knew I couldn't wait but I was worried about him driving home while upset.

Mom got me back to the car. She was my rock. She called my father who picked up my husband and brought him home to be with me. I made it home, which still doesn't feel right. The crib is there and a room full of promise and yet it's empty. Bless my family for their strength because they held it together while I fell apart and it was only the beginning. I am still (almost 4 weeks later) actively miscarrying.

The process of miscarriage is long and the truth is no one ever talks about it. It is lonely. Since I was in the last week of my first trimester ( I was even showing) we had to tell everyone. The number of people who came forward with similar stories was astounding. I know that it isn't a happy topic but the truth is we need to talk about it. I need to talk about it. So please bare with me through the next few entries as I go through the processes of healing.