Moment of Truth

Tuesday morning was our first prenatal visit.  This was something I was anxiously awaiting from the moment I saw those two lines appear the first week of January.  It was a standard first visit, and we didn't get to experience anything amazing like I would have hoped for.  Just a consultation of medical history, lots of bloodwork, a urinalysis, and going over any questions we may have (which trust me, I had a list as a first time pregnant woman).  We left feeling mostly positive, but in the back of mind I knew I wasn't completely satisfied with how things were.  For one, I had to ask for my HCG and progesterone levels to be tested, since it wasn't routine.  I also was experiencing some light cramping on one side for about 24 hours, which had me worried and also allowed for me to ask for an early ultrasound, one of which our insurance did not cover because insurance is absolutely ridiculous now (I could go on for hours about that one).  

Ultimately, we decided to wait on our HCG and progesterone levels before we scheduled the early ultrasound.  If those levels looked fine, there seemed no need to waste unnecessary loads of money if our little bean's levels seemed normal.  Plus, the Doppler appointment was scheduled in two weeks; we could totally wait it out.  What could possibly happen?

What could happen was something I had prepared myself for from day one.  

The fact that practically every pregnant woman I've known (give or take three or four) has had a miscarriage was something constantly flowing in the back of my mind.  It's an unfair, all to common happening that baffles my mind.  So when Tuesday afternoon came around, and I started spotting, I knew.  I knew that even though it was just spotting, and that most women in pregnancy have this as a symptom, it wasn't a symptom for me.  I knew that the cramping I've experienced was concerning, and the back pain I was starting to feel was another red flag.  Jason reassured me everything would be fine, and we would call the doctor's office in the morning.  That's when I started to pray.  To beg, to plea, and to find the slight chance of hope I somehow knew wasn't in existence.  I figured the more I prayed, the harder I tried, maybe something would come through for me.  

Wednesday morning came around, and we snuck in for a cancelled appointment.  After a pelvic exam and some discussion with the doctor, ruling a threatened miscarriage was taking place, he set us up for a 50-50% chance of our baby's future.  We scheduled an ultrasound for the next morning, and while the spotting and cramping continued, although still faint and not overwhelming, he reassured us that if there was a heartbeat, we were in the clear.  If there was none, we needed to start thinking of our options.  We found that although my HCG levels were where they needed to be, my progesterone levels were extremely low.  What should have been a minimum of a 14, my progesterone was at a 5.  He prescribed me Prometrium to start ASAP, as I did as soon as I got home. 

As Thursday morning approached, after the longest 24 hour period of my life and cramping becoming more severe, I went to the restroom and it happened.  Bright red blood, clots, and a nonstop flow.  I didn't need an ultrasound to tell me what I already knew, yet I kept the tiniest glimpse of hope that maybe somehow, just someway, that little flicker would come across the screen and life would be good again.  When we got to the office and they called us back for the ultrasound, I cried to the sonographer, and at that point I know she prepared herself on what she was going to find.  As she ran the wand across my belly, which seemed like the absolute longest moment of my life, I looked back and forth from her face to Jason's face, searching for any kind of sign that they knew what they were looking at.  As she finished, she stated that she couldn't tell us anything and the doctor had to go over the results.  I cried again, knowing exactly what those results would be.

He sat us down, brought up the ultrasound photos and explained  that we experienced a blighted ovum in our pregnancy.  Basically, the sac and placenta had formed, which is how the HCG levels were fine, but the embryo never had.  It explained so much but at the same time, nothing at all.  It explained why I never got nauseous, it explained why the last four days I felt "empty".  At some point between the cramping on Monday and the spotting on Wednesday, I imagined to myself just running away from this baby and wanting to get a clean slate.  It explained why in the back of my mind, I wanted this pregnancy to reset and start over.  I know after I had this thought, I instantly felt guilt and anger towards myself for how I could even conceive such an idea.  Apparently, I just knew what my body was trying to tell me.

I chose the D&C option rather than waiting to naturally pass everything.  For me, this was a personal decision knowing I couldn't possibly heal until getting everything out was over.  The doctor explained that it could take a day or it could take weeks letting it occur naturally.  It was a simple choice for me, and they scheduled me for that afternoon at 3:45.  Everything was happening so fast, but I think it was better for me that way.  Although I didn't really have time to process everything before it all happened, I was able to just get it over, which I needed to do.

The D&C was quick and painless.  Although I was quite nervous, I was never nervous about the actual procedure.  The hardest part was seeing everyone in the hospital I knew from work and having to explain why I was there.  It was awkward and just made me appreciate why we kept our secret from most people until we were further along; at least we wouldn't have to explain to the world what had happened.  

Now, just one day after the procedure, I'm in a place of not really knowing what to feel.  Yes, I've cried my eyes out to release everything inside.  Yes, I've talked about it over and over with Jason and with a few select close family and friends that have been through the same thing.  Yet, do I look forward to trying again?  Do I sit and mope, grieve this loss and move on?  How long is it going to take to be normal again?  I feel as though so many women go through this but never really explain how they feel about it, which in turn leaves me confused on how I should feel about it, too.  The scariest part for me is not knowing how future pregnancies are going to be.  Is this event going to make me more calm the next time I see those two pink lines, or more paranoid, looking for every sign I experienced with this pregnancy, and just… wait for something to happen.  I need to know how to look forward, and I'm not sure if that is something anyone can help me with or if I need to figure it out on my own (which I'm not good at doing, anyway).

I know it's unconventional to write about this.  I'm not sure if it will help with the healing or if it will just make me look like a blubbery idiot who can't get over something so "routine", that more than 25% of pregnant women experience.  I may make this a public read, and I may keep it private for the entire time this blog is in existence.  I can't say yet.  But, I know when I was going through my miscarriage, I searched the internet for a glimpse of relation and couldn't find much.  If anything, if it doesn't work for healing, if it doesn't serve a purpose for myself, maybe it will help someone else out there looking for the answers I was searching for the past three days.  Because Lord knows, the one thing I needed during this time was to know that I wasn't alone.

In the end, it looks like my New Years Resolution turned out to be much more than I thought it meant.  I made that resolution and instantly found out I was pregnant.  So I "let go" for a couple weeks and it happened!  But now, I need to let it go again.  And maybe times after that.  And it may not come as easy, but I need to prepare myself for the realities of life, no matter how unsettling, unfair, or personal they may be.  So for now, because I'm not bawling and I'm not cursing the world, here's to looking forward, to starting over and to letting it go.