Pending: Motherhood (Rainbow Baby Version)

It’s sort of funny in a sad kind of way my mental preparation for potential motherhood. My perpetually positive husband never had any thoughts about any difficulties… infertility… miscarriages… no worries at all, and I – ever the planner – was stuck on people struggling to get pregnant and making plans if we DO struggle with getting pregnant. We even went so far as to begin the process of planning to freeze embryos and what that would look like. I accepted truly in my soul that the only barrier to having a baby would be an inability to get pregnant. I even thought if I couldn’t, all would be well and we would try fertility treatments and ultimately adopt.

After all, many women, especially in medicine, have a tough time getting pregnant.

It never dawned on me that my personal plight of pending motherhood would instead be miscarriage after miscarriage.

Did you know that 10-20% of all known pregnancies end in miscarriage? That’s right, up to 1 in 5 pregnancies end before they even have a chance to begin. 1 in 5 pregnancies start with the joy of 2 pink lines and fade forcefully and emotionally with up to 6 weeks of bleeding.

Yet I was still so unprepared, even with knowing of a few people close to me who suffered miscarriages as well. Statistically, you’d think miscarriages were talked about even more since they occur this frequently, but just like your monthly period or your sexual assault experience, opening up about these struggles are still taboo. No one shares their experiences with this, certainly not openly. Even when people so indecently bring forward the “when are you having kids?” … “are you guys going to try soon?” … “don’t wait too long.” Like… are you kidding me? A piece of me just died (again) – and not a small piece either – and you have the audacity to ask these intimate things?

So, I chose honesty.

“Are you guys going to try soon?”

We have been trying, but we had two miscarriages so it’s sensitive.

“Don’t wait too long.”

I can only let my body do what it’s allowing me to.

I’m kidding, I never said these exact things (even if I thought them), but I did open up and share my experience (and continue to) instead of brushing it aside. And you know what? Women (and men) started opening up and sharing their experiences with miscarriage as well, so here is me opening mine up to you.

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I stopped birth control, but we weren’t even trying, figuring after 10 years on the pill or with an IUD, there was no possible way we could get pregnant. We weren’t even wanting kids yet, just planning to freeze embryos. Idiots. I had a weird pang and some light bleeding … implantation bleeding? For real? 2 pink lines (one very faint) said “yep, probably.” But the pink line never grew darker with passing days and supposedly rising hCG levels, so we went to the doctor to confirm we were pregnant – too soon for an ultrasound, they also had a faintly pink positive line. We were amazed, scared, but mostly happy, realizing in that moment that neither of us were ready but both of us wanted it. I think I made it to almost 7 weeks before I started having cramping that felt like contractions, coming in waves. I miscarried that morning in the bathroom at work, went on with my day, and cried the whole way home.

We said.. probably the hormones. But exciting news! We learned we wanted kids now and we should start trying. After the first miscarriage, you technically can try right away…and so we did.

And got pregnant…again…right away.

This time was different, I was starting to feel sick. We went to our first ultrasound and we had a heartbeat, however it was slower than we thought, not exactly measuring where we expected, and we never got to hear it. There also was a “second baby” that “didn’t have a heartbeat yet” and we needed another ultrasound to “see what the other baby was doing.”

“It might just be too early.”

We went again the next week for repeat ultrasound and heartbeat was still there, and maybe didn’t have the growth expected but was still growing, and the second baby had been absorbed. We were told everything was fine and to come back for our next appointment at 12 weeks.

I started having dried blood just before 11 weeks. I called and was told that bleeding is normal in the first trimester and that dark blood was old blood (which I knew). I felt in my heart that something was wrong. I kept having this bleeding, nothing wild, but I couldn’t wait until our 12 week appointment without knowing. I had already written our announcement on pumpkins. We were planning to travel to tell Aaron’s grandparents that weekend. I just needed to know, so we went to the emergency department. I knew before I got there, but had confirmation when the ultrasound tech didn’t say a word to me and it was taking a while – because she couldn’t find the heartbeat anymore. It wasn’t measuring well anymore. The baby was gone.

We were told to go home and rest because of how it was measuring it was possible the heartbeat was not detectable yet on ultrasound – but we already had an ultrasound with a heartbeat, so that wasn’t it. We scheduled an appointment with our OB the next day, where we confirmed we lost the baby. I was nervous about what this meant, being in Florida, would we have any difficulties getting the pills? A D&C if necessary? What if something went wrong? Maybe it was easy because we didn’t have a heartbeat anymore, but I took misoprostol to help the miscarriage along, because it wasn’t doing it entirely on its own.

It was reminder after reminder with every passed clot and bloody pad I changed. Every email I accidentally forgot to change in time telling me how far along our baby was meant to be. Every time I walked by the bathroom we found out we were pregnant in and every time I walked by the bathroom where I found out I was miscarrying. Every baby I treated at work was a reminder of what I could’ve had…and it felt so in reach. We had our confirmation ultrasound that there was an empty uterus and empty is exactly how I felt.

I was afraid I’d never be myself again… truthfully, I’m still not really sure I ever will.

I do distinctly remember the day I sort of maybe started feeling a little better – or at the very least motivated to do something to help myself. My husband came home from the gym and I was in my usual location on the couch bumming about life and I told him I’d scheduled an appointment with a psychiatrist and a nutritionist and I wanted to go back to the gym again. I was afraid about how I was feeling and that it would never go away. He told me he was glad I was doing something about it on my own and that he was going to give me another week before he intervened, pulling the no-questions-asked, no-arguments-allowed “I am worried about you and think you need help” card that either of us can use to send the other to therapy because he was afraid for me too.

Turns out being a shell of yourself doesn’t only affect you.

We decided to take a small break from trying and let hormones figure out how to hormone in a body that had been riddled with birth control for years. We cried over putting our street cat down a week later for more reasons than putting down the cat. We were attemping to close a chapter in a book that didn’t have a chance to be written. We then immediately went to the humane society to pet cats and – whoops – rescued one because we needed… joy. Something good.

I started going to the gym again. I met with my psychiatrist often. I started taking zoloft. I met with a nutritionist for sports nutrition, not fertility. Everyone around me knew what I was going through and didn’t force me to talk about it and never pitied me (at least in front of my face). I confided in good friends about how I was feeling. And I think I felt maybe okay. I definitely rationalize(d) a lot.

Then we tried again and true to form, we got pregnant the first time trying.

How…lucky.

Except lucky is not at all how I felt. You know what’s surprisingly hard?

Having a totally normal pregnancy following miscarriages.

I felt… scared. Every time I went to the bathroom, I anticipated blood signaling another miscarriage. Anytime I felt a weird cramp, I thought I was miscarrying. I started having a sharp cramp over my right ovary and thought I had an ectopic pregnancy – turns out it was a corpus luteum cyst which evidently was a good sign. Between every appointment (where we had an unusual number of ultrasounds for a normal pregnancy, cue triplet scare), I’d feel reassured for the remainder of the week before doubts set in, with 2-4 weeks of baseline anxiety that I couldn’t escape. It did get better after the baby started moving more regularly, but even when the baby moves all the time I “didn’t feel the baby move at all while at work” and “these kick counts are taking forever” (15 minutes). I ate a snack and got 10 kicks in less than 2 minutes (eye roll).

But unfortunately, there has been little days of excitement, mostly on days of our appointments and ultrasounds, but honestly it’s been mostly hesitation and anxiety. People ask how I’m feeling and in the back of my head I’ve been thinking – maybe after 12 weeks? 16 weeks? Surely after the totally normal anatomy scan we had at 20 weeks? Or the “spine-only” anatomy scan we had at 24 weeks because the little peanut was moving too much at 20 weeks to see the spine? Viability at 23/24 weeks? The surprise size check ultrasound at 30 weeks we had? 34 weeks? Full term? Never?

“Are you excited?” Umm…yes?

“Happy Mother’s Day!” It doesn’t count because I can’t hold my baby.

“This Christmas will be so exciting for you!” Sure, if we make it there.

Oh gosh, and the fateful question: “is this your first?” Yes? No? The first one that might cross the finish line?

I feel like the Pregnancy Scrooge.

Haunted.

PEOPLE EVEN WONDER IF I EVEN WANTED THIS BECAUSE I DON’T SEEM EXCITED.

Of course I do. I don’t want this to get misconstrued, I have joy and thankfulness with every painful rib kick, bout of heartburn, and inability to catch my breath. But excited? Not how I’d describe it. I’m still just scared.

Not to mention, we could’ve already celebrated his or her 1st birthday (we don’t even know what the gender was because we were going to be surprised). My first real Mother’s Day. I could already be watching Aaron just be the best dad ever. Those are my real thoughts. I shouldn’t have to be looking forward to my new baby yet, I should already have one.

I now just play it off like I’m ready for the baby to come out (which I am) because I am uncomfortable (which I also am), but if I’m really honest with myself and with you all, typing this today in the middle of my 3rd trimester in a pregnancy that has had ZERO complications or issues and 8 reassuring ultrasounds, I’m still scared we will lose it.