Empty (part 2)

After losing the baby in October, we still felt pretty strongly that there was a baby waiting to come and that we were ready for another. It was hard and scary even thinking about getting pregnant again, but after waiting about a month we felt like it was the right thing. I didn't feel the same excitement and anticipation about wanting to take a pregnancy test as soon as possible. But over Christmas while we were in California I dreamed that I was pregnant again so when I woke up I decided I might as well take a test to confirm it. I was trying to feel hopeful that everything would be okay this time, but when I saw those positive lines I couldn't help but cry. I felt scared and hopeless.  I tried telling myself I was just being paranoid and anxious and still recovering from the recent loss, but I think deep down I knew things weren't okay. Every time I talked about my pregnancy to someone I would say something like "...but I don't think it's gonna make it.", even realizing how negative that sounded.

We went back home to Utah and I had the morning sickness, the fatigue, the hormonal upheaval (all signs that things are moving along like they should be), but along with it I had a couple dreams that things weren't right. I woke up one night when I was about 8 weeks along with an awful ache in my arm, and I immediately recalled that same feeling from October. I felt this overwhelming sense of dread and despair. By the morning I realized that my pregnancy symptoms had mostly faded and I think then I knew. I cried non-stop for over a week (all while trying to pack up our house to move cross-country). I mean honestly I was surprised I didn't run out of tears. I don't even know where they kept coming from. I was not ready to call the doctor and have them confirm what I already knew. I told God, please not now, I cannot do this again, not right now, especially not with everything else going on. It felt like I was losing my house, my friends, my sense of stability, and now also losing this baby. I just cannot go through this, not while Matt is gone. I can't do it alone. My prayers changed from asking for the baby to be healthy to asking for peace and strength.

So I kept my scheduled ultrasound appointment for the following week. Matt was already in Connecticut, so I went alone and laid on that same table where we once saw little Mariah kicking and swimming around. The ultrasound technician told me I was measuring on track at 10 weeks, but all I could hear was the silence. Of course I wanted a miracle. I wanted to see a little heart beating that would continue to beat long after mine has stopped. But, there was no heartbeat. Even I could see that what should have been a baby did not look like a baby. I felt like I had already known so I just stared off into space and tried to keep it together. The ultrasound tech pointed to a picture of a healthy 10 week fetus and said, "This is what it's supposed to look like." Thanks.

 My doctor needed to see me so I went and sat in the prenatal appointment room where I had listened to Mariah's heartbeat and had my growing belly measured so many times before. The doctor gave me my options for taking care of this non-viable pregnancy:  take a ton of pills (used off-label) to induce miscarriage at home, or opt for a D&C. I actually laughed at how awful this whole thing was. On top of finding out you're losing another baby, now you're supposed to pick if you'd prefer taking pills that as my doctor explained would cause extreme blood loss, severe contractions, possible vomiting (and may not even work), or you can choose surgery with general anesthesia and still have continued bleeding and possible complications. ha. ha. ha. And that's not to mention the serious risks and side effects. I told him I'd get back to him on that.

I knew Matt was anxious to hear the news, still hoping for something good. I couldn't even call or talk to anybody for awhile because it felt like telling people would make it real. I just couldn't believe I was going through this AGAIN. SO SOON. I was of course grieving for another pregnancy lost, but I was now feeling the fear about myself too. Maybe something is actually wrong with me. Maybe this is just the second in a long string of losses. Maybe it will be months, years, or longer until we have another baby. I don't know.

By the time I got home I knew there was no way I was choosing either of those crap options. I called the doctor back and he told me I could wait it out for about a month without risk of infection and that usually bodies know how to take care of things on their own if you give it time. Fine with me. I definitely felt the best about just waiting it out. Kind of funny because going through natural miscarriage a few months earlier I knew it would be no walk in the park but it just felt right in this case. For myself, I needed to have the pregnancy end the same way I would have tried if I had carried it to term: with as little intervention as possible. I think partly I needed to regain some trust in the process if I knew my body would take care of things on its own.

Having Matt gone was really, really hard. I was so grateful for Mariah for getting me through that week. If I didn't have a toddler that needed to be fed and changed and bathed I don't know what I would've done with myself.

More tears kept coming long after I thought the well had dried up, but finally and slowly I started to feel the peace I had been praying so fervently for. I finally understood there was nothing, nothing I could have done to prevent either of these losses. 

In some ways it was nice to have the distraction of a major move to keep me busy and focused. Matt came home and we had a few days where we finished packing and sent off our stuff, then he went back to CT to continue working and living in a hotel, and Mariah and I went back to CA to be with my family while we waited for our new apartment to be ready so we could join Matt at our new home.

At 11 weeks pregnant I still wasn't showing any signs of letting go of the pregnancy. I was still having touches of morning sickness come and go. Another week went by. I started looking into things that might help my body let go. I saw a chiropractor, went to an acupuncturist, and got a massage. Another week went by and still nothing. I was a little worried that my window for avoiding infection was closing. I started taking herbs (if you're curious: black and blue cohosh, dong quai, and chaste tree berry) that for a few days gave me nothing but headaches. Then, in a few days came the cramping and then the bleeding, just in time to head to CT. They don't teach you in school how to change a toddler's diaper while you're also starting to miscarry in an airplane bathroom. Thankfully by this point, I was feeling more relief than sadness.

We came home to our new apartment, and we were snowed in the first day while the cramps got worse and worse. I was so grateful my mom had come to help us unpack and get settled, I do not know how I would have gotten through the week without her. The next day, Valentine's Day, the cramps were becoming contractions. I was surprised at how much it actually felt like being in labor. The contractions started coming stronger and more frequently, but there was no adrenaline and happy anticipation of the new baby to come. I realized there was no reason to put on a brave face for this, it just sucks and it's okay to cry it all out. By the late afternoon when the contractions had gotten nearly unbearable my body finally let that pregnancy go. There was the sac that was supposed to be nourishing a healthy little baby but instead had utterly failed us both.

If I had to go back and choose again, I would do the same thing. It was hard. Really really really hard, but I think it was the best thing for me in this situation. I'm feeling hopeful that the next pregnancy will "stick" only because I don't know how else to feel.

It's a strange mix of wanting other people to know what's going on but also not wanting to talk about it. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed about going through these miscarriages, but maybe I do feel a little embarrassed by how downright depressed I've been. I see other people going through things just as, and many times even more, difficult than this and I wonder how they can be so strong. How are they so brave and faithful? Maybe I should have waited to write this until I've come out alive on the other side with another babe in arms but I don't know how long that will be so here it is. I still feel very empty. I'm still healing. I'm hopeful that in a few years this will seem like such a small bump in the road. Right now, I'm grateful that Matt is my partner in this, I'm grateful for Mariah and the joy she brings, and I'm grateful for the peace I feel about our family. I've never been more grateful for the knowledge that families are eternal.

"Miscarriage itself is remarkably common, happening to roughly one quarter of all known pregnancies. But you’d never know it until you mention your own. Miscarriage, like early pregnancy, is still a largely private affair. Unlike births and deaths, it has no rituals to mark it. Even close friends can feel at a loss with no script to follow. Co-workers rarely hear of false starts. One’s life moves on as if it never happened. This quietness in the face of something that feels, to some women, so physically and emotionally overwhelming can be confusing." - found here

So I'm just throwing this all out into cyberspace thinking maybe one day somebody else will stumble upon this and know they're not alone either.