Category: after miscarriage

after miscarriage · grief and loss · Infertility · journal entry · missed miscarriage · pregnancy loss

Because I can’t reply in real life…

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The ongoing saga with my sister-in-law continues.

I love her, I really do. She’s been a blessing to me, a friend and a sister from the beginning. She’s rejoiced in our highs and grieved in our lows. She’s fun and sweet and caring.

But as we’ve navigated this fertility and pregnancy loss journey she’s had her share of moments that make me want to just tell her what I think. It’s just not worth losing the relationship or burning bridges with my husband’s family so common sense tells me to keep my mouth shut and my fingers still.

[As a brief refresher…we started our TTC journey somewhat similarly and within a few months of each other. Initial unexpected (but still wanted!) pregnancies, early loss (mine chemical, hers a little later but baby stopped developing around 5 weeks)…and then within 8 months she was pregnant again and is due with her “rainbow baby” at the end of May. We tried for 15 months, did an IUI cycle, and after seeing a heartbeat, our baby died just past 7 weeks.]

I realized last week or so that the reason her pregnancy has bothered me so much (and especially now) is just that it is a stark reminder of how unfair this is. I don’t understand why they get their rainbow, their reminder of God’s faithfulness and grace…and we tried for months longer than they had to and then lost another baby. It just hurts. And she tries to act like she understands but as I explored in a previous post…you can’t be sympathetic if you haven’t experienced the same thing. So her attempts at encouragement and comfort often just rub me the wrong way.

Today she sent me a long text telling me about how she was hanging up clothes in her daughter’s nursery, bawling while listening to a song about God’s faithfulness and remembering how hopeless she felt in the 8 months that they tried and how grateful she is to be doing something so simple as organizing baby things…and how she is completely confident that this will happen for us too.

I have multiple responses I want to send. None of which I will, so this blog post gets to be my venting space.

  • “Oh, you know? Just like you KNEW that everything was 100% fine with this pregnancy?”
  • “Yes, the hopelessness of trying for 8 months after a miscarriage and then having a successful rainbow pregnancy is the same as trying for 15 months and losing what should have been our rainbow baby. I’m so grateful you know exactly how I feel.”
  • “I’m glad God is faithful to you; but it’s really hard right now to see his faithfulness to us at this moment after infertility and recurrent losses. And thanks for reminding me of that *and* all the happy baby related things you get to do while I’m still actively grieving the loss of mine and the further postponement of getting to do all those things myself.”
  • “Oh please, tell me more about how blessed you are to be bawling in your baby’s nursery. I’m sure that will make me forget that I’m once again not pregnant.”

Yeah, I know. I’m sarcastic and bitter.

Loss and infertility will do that to you sometimes.

Looking forward to a day when these well-meaning comments don’t make me want to crawl into a hole and die.

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after miscarriage · grief and loss · Infertility · journal entry · missed miscarriage · pregnancy loss

Two weeks later

isabelrnLeave a comment

It’s been two weeks since that appointment. Every key moment is still crystal clear in my head. I hate that I keep reliving it but I can’t seem to stop.

I’m riding the rollercoaster of emotions and it doesn’t seem to be letting up at all; in fact, new emotions have joined in the fun.

I was initially just utterly sad (mixed with some confusion and frustration)…I think the initial shock and sadness from the loss and the anticipation of the final loss kept all the other emotions from making their appearance.

Now that the physical aspect is over; anger and depression have been thrown in the mix.

Depression in that I literally cannot interest myself in anything. I make it through my work day pretty well, but the minute I get home (whether I had one visit or five) I just want to crawl into bed and either sleep or mindlessly play on my phone. I don’t even want to watch TV. I just stay in bed; and eventually the sadness wins out and I have a cry (or several). I don’t want to eat; I feel hungry sometimes but nothing sounds good and when food is actually in front of me I have a couple bites and I don’t want anymore. My husband will try to make me laugh and he does a good job for the moment but the sadness comes right back. I have no energy and can’t focus. It’s actually starting to worry me a little bit; I know it’s still early in the grieving process but I also know that I’ve dealt with chronic depression before so I’m concerned that my tendency to be somewhat depressed already is going to predispose me to a major depressive episode.

And then there’s the anger. I guess it’s anger at God (which I’ve never really had before and I’m still struggling to acknowledge because it seems wrong somehow; more on that another time perhaps?)…and anger at a myriad of factors related to the situation.

  • I’m angry at the unfairness. We already experienced one miscarriage and then had to deal with infertility on top of that; it’s absolutely unfair that we get to go through a second (and infinitely harder) miscarriage when we did everything right and when we so desperately wanted this baby.
  • I’m angry that other people get pregnant without trying, get pregnant when they don’t want to be, get pregnant and end their pregnancies.
  • I’m angry that we don’t even get to find out if something was wrong with the baby (apparently there wasn’t enough tissue to be able to run any DNA testing) so that now I have to be even more afraid that it will just keep happening.
  • I’m angry that he would ask us to walk through this again months before my sister and sister-in-law both have their babies.
  • I’m angry that we are 1 in 4 (miscarriage) and 1 in 8 (infertility) and 1 in 100 (recurrent miscarriage).
  • I’m angry that there may be no clear answers this side of eternity why this happened. 

I’m angry that God would give us this child (because after dealing with infertility it is even more clear that each pregnancy is divinely ordained by God and is a gift from him) and then take it away. I’m angry that he would give us both a deep desire to be parents, finally allow us to conceive after months, fall in love with this little life the minute we saw it’s tiny heart beating…and then let it die.

He didn’t have to let it die. I could still be pregnant. And I’m not.

I know all the things that are true. I know that God is always good, that he is faithful, that he uses trials to shape and strengthen us. These truths inform my framework; so I know that eventually once the intensity of the grief lessens and I manage to work through the anger that somehow I’ll be more like Jesus and closer to him. And I know that is what my ultimate goal is supposed to be.

But right now, I’m just hurting.

after miscarriage · baby EL · D&C · grief and loss · missed miscarriage · pregnancy loss

Happy birthday, little waterbear

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March 29, 2019 at approximately 2:30 pm…our baby was born.

I had a D&C. It is done. I am no longer pregnant. (I will probably write another post on this experience later; it was rough)

My pregnancy lasted 54 days. I knew I was pregnant for 43 days. I thought I was pregnant with a growing baby for 35 days. Our baby lived for 37 days.

Numbers. I guess they don’t mean a whole lot. But they are all I have for this little one.

Little waterbear. One of my pregnancy apps let us pick the ‘size’ comparison and we were primarily using ‘strange but cute animals.’ At four weeks, baby was the size of a “waterbear,” which is a tiny, strange, resilient little creature that apparently can survive in the vacuum of space. The cartoon drawing of said waterbear was extremely appealing to my husband and from that moment on, it was our little waterbear even though the animals changed each week.

2/3/19-3/29/19.

Too soon a memory but forever in our hearts.

We love you.

Happy birthday.

 

after miscarriage · baby EL · grief and loss · Infertility · journal entry · missed miscarriage

I am having a miscarriage.

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(Sensitive content to follow-also a rather long post)

I am having a miscarriage. Again.

This is so surreal and heartbreaking. And the minute we saw that heartbeat for the first time I knew that if this happened, it would be infinitely harder than before.

Miscarriage number one was a chemical pregnancy; no question now. Of course we still grieved…with any pregnancy loss it’s a loss of dreams and hopes and of knowing that this is a life you won’t get to know.

This one…we had a baby growing, we saw our little one with it’s precious heartbeat. And then it was gone. It is gone. I can’t even quite wrap my head around the depth of the grief right now. It’s easing just the slightest as the days pass; but I know on Friday when we have the D&C that the intensity will return.

——-

I keep replaying that office visit in my head. I was so nervous for days before that something had gone wrong; and that fear was present in the waiting room but mixed with the excitement and hope of getting to see that everything right on track just like everyone else was so confident about. And the first part of the visit was so normal; blood pressure, history…then into the exam room where the NP went over genetic screening options and breastfeeding, diet advice, and telling us that we could visit the hospital ahead of time to be able to see the maternity department.

Then she went in. I think I knew almost immediately; she could barely find it and when she did it was clear the sac was too small and the baby didn’t look like it was supposed to. I’d seen enough ultrasounds of babies at 8.5 weeks to know approximately what the shape should be. She mumbled something about ‘well, it’s definitely in the uterus,’ then a moment later said, “I’m not finding a heartbeat.” I think I still had a sliver of hope that maybe it was just the machine or her technique, but then she measured the baby. When I saw the 7w2d I knew it was over. 9 days behind and no heartbeat could only mean that the worst had happened.

I don’t remember much after that, just that the tears started and she talked for a while about what the next steps were (while I was still in the stirrups with a ultrasound wand inside me…); then she left us alone. I cried hard for a while and my husband just held me; when I was composed enough we went downstairs to have blood drawn and repeat ultrasounds in the radiology department. In this interval I texted my mom and my manager (to alert her I’d need some immediate time off); husband texted his parents as well.

Both of those ultrasounds were silent and cold and all the while I just cried silently; I couldn’t see the screen from my angle and ultrasound technicians aren’t supposed to comment about what they are seeing even if they know (so I didn’t expect it). My husband thought he knew when she was looking/listening for a heartbeat and even he could tell that there was nothing there.

I got dressed again and we went home. The NP called a few hours later to inform us that the results indeed showed that there was no heartbeat. She repeated our options, and advised we take the weekend to think about them. (or she simply told us that it would be okay to take some time after I said that I honestly had no idea how to proceed in that moment).

———

We spent the afternoon attempting to rest; telling additional family and a few close friends…all of this interspersed with quite a few breakdowns on my part. Deleting all the pregnancy apps on my phone brought a fresh round of tears; somehow it felt like I was erasing all evidence of this child but I also knew that I wouldn’t want to keep getting email notifications about ‘your baby today’ when it was no longer relevant.

We headed out later that evening to spend the weekend with my parents. Husband had an interview in their area the next day so he was already heading up; and he just seemed to know that I needed to be there. My mom has become the most amazing person in a crisis; she just seems to know when to listen, when to talk, when to distract, when to be present, when to excuse herself. Just being there (and away from the house) allowed the reality to sink in a little more gently.

Woke up Friday morning crying. Cuddled with my husband for a while and that helped, but this made me realize that mornings bring fresh reminders of this new and painful reality. Going to bed each night was hard too because then the distractions of the day faded and the emptiness sets back in.

Saturday night we got home; and there were flowers from an out of state friend and a care package from my sister-in-law (almost an exact copy of the things I left for her when she had her miscarriage). Husband had to run to his parent’s home for some medication, so I came up alone. Walking back inside to the emptiness of our home (for a season, anyway) in addition to seeing these thoughtful but unwanted gifts (I mean, I don’t *want* flowers and bath salts and tea…I want my baby to still be alive) brought a fresh round of tears. After sobbing on the floor in a fetal position for a while, I texted my sister and we talked until I calmed down a little bit.

Sunday morning we went to church; it was hard but good and definitely where we needed to be.

The rest of Sunday was just spent relaxing. Both of us dreading going back to work but also not wanting to just sit around at home all day not doing anything either; both of us completely drained and sad and confused. We both managed to get through our work days today; and now he’s at the gym so I’m making use of the time to attempt to get some of my thoughts and experiences down on “paper.”

——-

My primary thought is: “this is not fair.” We’ve already had one miscarriage, we’ve struggled to conceive for over a year, we’ve had to spend time and money and energy on some level of assistance….and then we finally get to rejoice in what seems to be a healthy pregnancy and we finally start to get excited about the future…and then it’s ripped away in a moment. Miscarriage by itself is hard enough; miscarriage after infertility is even worse.

I am sad. I feel empty, I feel like I (currently) have no purpose. I spent the last 5 weeks being so careful about what I put in my body and how I took care of myself…and now suddenly none of that matters and my womb is (essentially) empty again. I am confused…and hurting…and jealous (of those who haven’t had to experience any of this).

I believe that God is good, that he is sovereign, and that somehow all this is part of his plan; I take comfort in knowing that even in this he is faithful and we are not alone. But it doesn’t mean that I can even begin to understand why he chose this to be our path.

——-

In terms of our options, I have chosen to proceed with a D&C at the end of the week assuming the process has not already started (and given how far along I was I really don’t expect that natural process to begin for a least a few more weeks). I hate that I have to have a surgery to remove my baby from me; but I also know that I can’t take the emotional toll of waiting on a natural miscarriage with the knowledge that my baby is dead inside of me. Taking medications to induce the miscarriage at home was the other option; but that will mean that I still experience all the pain and bleeding and emotional trauma of being reminded of the loss every time I use the bathroom…and there’s a risk here of the process not completing and then we’d have to have a D&C anyway.

Our infertility doctor recommended that we get the baby’s DNA tested for chromosome issues; it is highly likely that there was a chromosomal abnormality that would have been incompatible with life and that is the reason for this. If so, then hopefully such a thing won’t happen again. If it’s not the baby, then she wants to do a workup on me to evaluate why my body can’t seem to sustain a pregnancy.

If we are able to know the baby’s gender, I want to know. I want to give this little one a name. It made me a mother, and by giving it a name I am acknowledging that gift and choose to thank God for the blessing that it was to have and nurture this child even for 5 short weeks. I hope we get to have a child (or several) living earth-side…but even if somehow that is not in God’s plan…I am a mother.

after miscarriage · appointed time · Infertility · iui · pregnancy · Uncategorized

Updates

isabelrnLeave a comment

My repeat labs a week ago showed an increase in HCG (from 80 to 252 in 3 days!) and a very comfortable progesterone (44.2). My first ultrasound is scheduled at the clinic on March 6th; I’ll be 6 weeks and 3 days.

Symptoms so far have included mild cramping, sore breasts, intermittent fatigue, and a desire to eat constantly. In a twisted way I’m eager to at least have the morning sickness start (though it doesn’t have to stay!) just so I’ll feel more pregnant.

I’ve continued taking tests every couple days just to monitor the lines (I know, I should stop…it won’t do anything either way…but seeing them get darker is just so reassuring). The line yesterday was almost identical to Friday’s line, but I think I’m more on a ‘every 72 hours’ sort of schedule so I’m hoping tomorrow’s test is darker.

At this point, I’m pretty sure that I’ve already made it farther than the first time. I thought I was 5 weeks and change when I miscarried based on my period dates, but given how faint my tests were (and never got any darker all week), I’m beginning to think that the fertilized egg attempted to implant, released a little bit of hormone, and didn’t stick. Just enough to register on a test, but barely. Hence the light tests and the low blood levels the day I started bleeding. I can’t have even been 4 weeks; it must have been a true chemical miscarriage.

So if I’m already at a definite 5 weeks (since I know my ovulation date this time), the embryo has already firmly implanted. So that risk has already gone away. The question now is whether it’s growing. And there’s no way I can know that until next Wednesday. I’m so desperately hoping baby EL measures where it needs to be for 6 weeks and change, and that maybe we’ll even get to see the heartbeat.

I wanted it before; I’ve wanted to be a mom forever. But I want it so much more now that we’ve worked so hard to get here. There’s a deeper attachment to this little one already. I know I’ll be okay even if things don’t go the way we hope…I still trust that God is good and faithful…but it’s going to be so much deeper of a loss since this one feels more real and more sure somehow.

In the meantime, all I can do is try to stay as calm as possible (which work is making difficult…I need to talk to my manager this week and explain my situation so she understands why I’m pushing back on taking certain assignments), eat as healthy as possible, and stay hydrated.

And be grateful for each day that I am still pregnant. We’re at 12 days of knowing. Already 5 days more than last time. So every day is a gift, every week is a new milestone and I’m trying to rest in that.