WARNING: If you have an easily queasy stomach, or can’t handle too much emotion or pain, this post may not be for you.
In October, I found out that I was pregnant for the first time ever in my life. It took five years to see if I could even get pregnant. The amount of overwhelming joy, anxiety, love and relief I felt in the moments leading up to seeing those two red lines pop up on the test was indescribable. Something I had never felt in my entire life. Tears, actual sobbing, occurred.
Nathan was outside walking our dogs when I ran to the kitchen to wave him back in with tears streaming down my face and a huge smile. He ran in asking what was the matter. I pulled him in the bathroom and asked him to look at the test. After some slight confusion as to what I was talking about, he finally spun around and realized what I was in the midst of discovering.
“Are the two red lines still there?”
“They haven’t gone away, right?!”
Laughing, he said “If anything, the lines are just getting darker. I think we’re pregnant.”
I ugly girl cried, before finally catching my breathe to the realization that I’d feel better if I had a digital test confirm it for me. Soon after, we drove to Rite Aid for a digital pregnancy test that would say pregnant or not pregnant. I chugged some lemonade while we decided to take the dogs for a walk. An hour later, I took another test and it was as pregnant as could be. My heart pounded so fast. I couldn’t control the tears or smile. Nathan had finally broken down too. The entire time of finding out on the original test, driving to Rite Aid, our walk, he had remained as calm as he could possible be. He let me freak out. He let me feel my very confusing and raw emotions. He was trying to keep strong for me while we got the confirmation from the digital test.
But when he finally let go, we stood in our hallway holding each other and crying. We were beyond ecstatic. Our family was finally growing!
Weeks later brought complete happiness mixed with waves of nausea, heartburn, and scary pregnancy nightmares, but I enjoyed every minute of it, knowing in 8 short months I’d finally meet my child. The only true future that I had ever hoped, dreamed and prayed for nonstop had finally come true. I went to the doctor for my first ultrasound to see how far along we were. I was only six weeks and a few days along. I had to do a vaginal ultrasound at first since it was still too early in the pregnancy to see or hear the baby through a stomach ultrasound. We did, however, get to see baby’s heart rapidly flicker. It made me weep. A heart flicker is an amazing thing to witness.
As time went on, and mostly because I was too excited to contain myself, we told a few close friends, a few family members, and co-workers (for the sake of future doctor’s appointments). We made amazing plans to surprise my
mother and Nate’s aunt’s and our extended family and friends at Thanksgiving. We came up with baby names, started thinking of themes for a nursery, cleaned out the closet in what would be the nursery. We had started a baby registry.
Unfortunately, it was all too soon. Way too soon.
Our eight week check up came around which made me anxiously awaiting to see my growing baby and to see that strong heartbeat flicker again like it had at six weeks, but this time with only a stronger flicker and a fetus the size of a raspberry! As I laid there and she prepared us to see a flicker, she turned to me and said something I was completely unprepared for. Sure, the thought had occurred before, but I just felt too good and too happy to think anything but positive thoughts at the time. There was no longer a heartbeat and no growth of the fetus has occurred since our six week check up.
My entire world shattered. OUR entire world shattered. I felt Nathan’s hand glide over my shoulder and squeeze for comfort which broke me even more. I had woken up with this enormous feeling of gratitude to the universe for finally granting me this one wish. I woke up with the thought that I’m a mother now. I woke up with thoughts of preparations and surprises to our families and friends. I did not wake up to think it would end so abruptly, so quickly. I was so ready for this new chapter in our lives. It wasn’t fair that I was back to where I was two months prior wondering when it would happen, why not me, what is wrong with me, what am I doing wrong, scrolling through Facebook with mixed emotions of friends and family members sharing their excitement in an addition to their families while I sat here wondering why I can’t just be happy not happy and annoyed at the same time.
Eventually, our doctor left the room for us to deal with our emotions for a little bit before proceeding on our next steps. After a few somber moments, she came back to briefly explain our options at this point. We had a decision to make. How did I want to proceed with the extraction of the miscarriage. We went home to decide and for me to return back in a week to ensure all had passed safely.
It seemed the fetus miscarried two weeks prior and I hadn’t passed it yet. I sat for a few hours crying thinking of all of my options. I had three choices: option one was to let it happen naturally let it come out (only with the idea that it would happen in the third week. If it did not happen that week, I would have to choose one of the other options to help it along or it could cause infection and other dangers to my body). Option two was to take two pills every 4 hours to only experience “extremely terrible pain described as something some women would never do again in their entire lives” (yes, that’s an exact quote from my doctor). Or option three, a D&C (dilation and curettage) which is basically putting me asleep and they remove the miscarriage by scraping the remains out of the uterus.
Surprisingly, I went with the pill that apparently women would never want to do again. I just couldn’t wrap my head around carrying my miscarried fetus much longer and honestly the D&C seemed to be more of a surgery that I didn’t want to go through at the time.
The pill method requires you to take 12 pills total, two at a time every 4 hours with two ibuprofen with food and lots of liquids. I will go on record saying that my doc was right and that the pills were a giant, GIANT mistake. I will NEVER do that again and hopefully, I won’t ever have to. It was two long days and nights of no sleep, essentially what it felt like was giving birth to giant blood clots at sporadic times without any proper pain relieving medication. I sat on the toilet almost every time sobbing in pain both physical and mental. This isn’t how I imagined this pregnancy going at all.
The pain was so excruciating that at one point, I laid my face to the cold bathroom tiles while I prayed it would end as tears ran down my face. My heart started to race uncontrollably and a panic attack started to form. It was the worst experience I had ever had in my entire life. I climbed in the shower for the second time in one day in hopes that the cramping would subside with hot water spraying my stomach and back, but no such luck happened. I told Nathan if he felt like it, I would be okay with him going back to work and try to get through the day as normal as possible, however I finally broke down and called Nathan home. I sobbed through the phone call and begged him to come home which didn’t take much for him to drop everything and rush home. He knew I was hurting. Honestly, it felt like I was dying.
If you ever are put in this situation, and you decide for some odd reason to use the pills, be sure to not push anyone away and to have someone with you the entire time. Those two days were a complete nightmare. Something I pray I never have to experience again in my life.
The only positive I can take from this entire awful traumatic event is that now I know I can get pregnant and my ovaries aren’t totally useless.
It took me a while to finally write this post and decide to share it to everyone. I want whoever have been or are currently going through the same thing as me, know that they aren’t alone and it is okay to feel their emotions whenever or however they want. Miscarriages happen more often than people like to talk about, but knowing this doesn’t make your independent experience any easier. You are allowed to cry, scream, curse, ask why, and even just take some time to yourself to feel. There are times I laugh because laughing helps me heal emotionally. Or help me forget for a tiny moment the pain I’ve been through. There are times where I just randomly sob and feel lonely, but I try to think of the only positive I can gather from this entire thing and hold onto it and pray that one day, I’ll have my dreams come true to their full extent.
I didn’t post this for sympathy or condolences, honestly I don’t even really want to say much more about it after this, but I just want those who have experienced this type of situation know I’m always lending an ear for venting, crying, or laughing. Being alone right now is not an option for us. Lean on those who want to give you a hug or a shoulder. Laugh when you want. Cry when you want. Just know it won’t always feel like our world is ending.