First, I am writing this on May 2, 2014, so whatever may happen in the future (more babies!), keep the date in mind.
October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
As many of you know, Trevor and I lost twins in June, 2011. It was really sad and difficult, especially so since he had already left to begin his year long deployment to Kuwait. So, after our loss, we were not able to try again for about 10 months.
I wish I could say that was our only experience with pregnancy loss/miscarriage, but I can't. I had my IUD removed in January 2014 and we planned to wait a little while to actually try for baby number 2. We both felt more comfortable letting my body sort itself out after the IUD removal first. Trevor is set to graduate with his undergrad in December 2014 (edit: now spread out to May 2015), so we were comfortable with a due date anytime after his graduation. Once we were in okay territory for that, it all happened very quickly. We are both grateful it seems we are quite fertile (getting pregnant on the first try three times in a row now), and glad we have a "bright side" to all of this. We know many do not have that blessing, and it is very much so a blessing. However, there is no "normal" or "non-sad" way to lose a pregnancy.
On April 21, 2014, the day after Easter. I got a very faint positive pregnancy test. My period was due the next day and I did not plan on testing until after that day because I was worried about a chemical pregnancy (finding out you're pregnant then your "period" just comes anyway, so a very early miscarriage). Testing or not wouldn't change anything, I just would rather not know I was pregnant if that were going to happen. I had the tiniest bit of spotting, which I know can be quite common, so I wasn't jumping up and down yet, still nervous my period just might come, but hey-I was pregnant!
On April 22, I started bleeding a little more, but still very light and not what I would consider a period. I'm not a big "pee-on-a-stick" person usually, but I was just so antsy to figure out if I was pregnant and going to stay pregnant, or if my "period" would still come. Long story short (very long, lots of peeing and trips to the Dollar Store--very accurate tests for $1, seriously), I went through 13 pregnancy tests in less than a week. They were very faint at first, then negative, then very faint again, then started getting darker. This whole time I was still spotting and trying to remind myself that is very common. I started having symptoms (queasy/uneasy feeling and very tired) which I took to be a good sign. Over the weekend (April 26/27) the symptoms continued and the lines on my pregnancy tests got notably darker (a sign the hormone detected by the tests was increasing). My bleeding hadn't picked up at all and even had moments where it seemed to be stopping, so on Monday, April 28 I decided I should call and schedule my prenatal appointments. While on the phone with them, I mentioned the bleeding in the event they wanted me to come in sooner. I ended up speaking with a doctor and she ordered blood work to check my beta HCG and progesterone levels. I am familiar enough with those things that I knew what to expect at this stage. We have an online patient portal, so I actually saw my results before the doctor called me. It didn't look good. My HCG was 38.1 and my progesterone was almost 0, which is what you would expect during your period, definitely not during a pregnancy. The biggest indicator, however, is whether or not HCG is doubling, so I'd need to go back in two days for follow up blood work. It was possible this was very late implantation and that would explain the low numbers, but it didn't look good. I was so torn--I didn't want to be naïve and get my hopes up when I knew the reality of my lab results. However, if this baby did pull through and everything went fine (even if I needed progesterone supplements or something), I didn't want to look back and remember giving up or writing it off.
So we waited...more. The whole week prior was so wishy washy with the spotting and confusing tests, not knowing if this baby would stick or not. Plus I was having symptoms and living as if I were pregnant (I was...still kind of am I guess?)-no drinking, taking all my vitamins, exhausted and sleeping when I could, strong sense of smell... It was all happening.
On Wednesday, April 30, I went in for my follow up blood work. Ideally, my HCG would have doubled (so 80+ would have been a good sign) and I'd have more progesterone. However, when I saw the results, it had gone down to 37 (from 38.1 two days ago). I knew what this meant. There is no coming back from dropping HCG levels. To be honest, if it was going to drop, I wish it would drop faster. I'm still tired (although that is quickly getting better) and would like to just get it over with. Hopefully the drop picks up soon and there is no major drama since it was so early on. If things had gone the other way, I would be 5 weeks pregnant, so this is a very early miscarriage. From what I've gathered, it will be like a heavy period, maybe some cramping that is slightly worse than usual (I don't really get any usually, so we'll see). Not a fan of the waiting. My periods are totally predictable so I don't love this unknown.
Final edit on October 1, 2014: I'm 21 weeks pregnant with a baby that appears perfectly healthy (yay!). On May 6, 2014 my HCH was down to 1.1 (checked again to help rule out ectopic) and I never really bled much. I had the few days of spotting I already mentioned, then another couple days of spotting and that was it. I'm guessing it worked out that way because it happened so early. Full disclosure: I was advised to wait a couple months to try again, but honestly I might not have even known I was pregnant had I not tested when I did. So, we decided not to worry about it. After all this, I was going to wait to test, but on June 2 I had diarrhea (never ever happens to me) and on June 3 I just had to know...positive!
Hugs and comfort to those of you who have experienced pregnancy and/or infant loss in any way. It is a sad thing, hard on entire families, that doesn't get much attention.
Some wonderful organizations supporting those who have endured losses:
The Jameson House
IRIS
Faith's Lodge
Molly Bears
Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep
Silent Grief
Click here to read about this series and see the other posts.
Click here to read about our first experience with pregnancy loss.
Showing posts with label pregnancy loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy loss. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Summer 2014.
Well, this is embarrassing: one post about our entire summer. Once I get out of the blogging groove, it can be hard to get back in it. So, here goes nothing! (Also, this will be long so I highly doubt I will go back and look for typos...hope it makes sense!)
If you don't care why I haven't posted all summer, you can skip this paragraph. If you're nosey, read on. I went back to find my last real post (not counting my Causes posts, which are definitely real, but you know what I mean) and it seems I was a bit of a blog failure this spring, too. When I sat down to write this, I didn't intend to start out with this big explanation, but here it is. I found out the day after Easter that I was pregnant. I had some weird tests (really light, slightly darker, light again, darker, etc.) for a week and finally went in for blood work a week after my first positive test. My HCG and progesterone were low (HCG 34 and progesterone almost 0) which was definitely not a good sign for a pregnancy. I went back 48 hours later for a repeat; ideally, HCG would have at least doubled in that time and HCG was 1. So, no baby (a very early miscarriage, or might even call it a chemical pregnancy). Because of the weird tests, neither of us totally got our hopes up and definitely never had a "woo! we're having a baby!" moment. My body didn't care and I still felt pregnant that whole time (sick, tired, blah). Luckily, I got pregnant again a few weeks later and I'm now 17 weeks and feeling baby kicks every day. Because of my history (two losses), my doctor ordered an ultrasound and blood work at my 8 week appointment. Baby looked good but my progesterone was low. I never had it checked with Myra and she was totally fine, but my doctor wanted to put me on progesterone just to help support the pregnancy until I hit 12 weeks. So, I got two rounds of two shots in the butt followed by a month of suppositories and all was well. ANYWAY, what that all really means is I've been tired and sick then extra tired and extra sick (progesterone side effects) for most of the summer. It's only been the last few weeks I have been feeling pretty darn good, but I still love naps. Again, I didn't exactly mean to get into the specifics of all that, but there it is-my legitimate excuse for failing at the blog. I believe I had a similar lapse when I was pregnant with Myra.
Trevor just started his final year of undergrad (Biology-Biomedical Science/Pre-Dentistry) and is busy, busy, busy studying for the DAT, filling out dental school applications, shadowing, etc., on top of being a student, husband, dad, First Sergeant... That all leaves us both pretty busy. We somehow make time for him to play softball/bowl (depending on season), so we agreed we need to make time for me to go do something on my own, too. Until I come up with a better idea, I will be spending my Sunday mornings at a coffee shop while blogging and/or wasting time.
I helped run a booth for my babywearing group at a Baby Expo...and Myra got to meet a couple of the Vikings Cheerleaders.
Myra and I survived without Trevor for two and a half weeks in June while he was at Camp Ripley playing GI Joe (normally these 2-3 weeks are no big deal, but early pregnancy made it suuuuuper fun). I felt like crap and slept every second I could, but survival was the goal. Trevor was gone for Father's Day, but Myra and I went to my great-aunt and uncle's 50th wedding anniversary party then to my dad's for a cookout.
Myra and I went to the Minnesota Zoo with Grandma Christy and my nephews. I was curious if she would turn into a zoo animal herself without a nap, but she found a way to squeeze one in.
Our niece graduated high school this spring and we got to attend her commencement as well as her open house party. We also attended a few weddings this summer and they ALL had photo booths. We've got quite the collection of photo booth strips now.
Thunder of Drums is an annual Drum Corps International competition Trevor and his family attend every year. It's actually where I met half his family for the very first time many years ago. This year was Myra's first time and she did very well!
Most of Trevor's softball games were late games this summer, but we did get to watch him play at least once!
Every summer I/we go visit my aunt/uncle/cousins in Wisconsin. For the last several years, they have lived in the Madison area, but since our last visit they moved to Green Bay. It was fun to visit their new home and see some new places with them. We went to Bay Beach Amusement Park and took Myra on a couple rides. Trevor got to go on the doozies on behalf of our family. As he was boarding the scrambler he sent me a text, "I am not looking forward to this." haha, what a good sport!
A week after our return from Green Bay, we went to the North Shore for a long weekend mini vacation. I spent a week every summer "up north" with my grandparents and cousins, but I haven't been back in about 14 years. It was fun to see the area again and share that with Trevor. He lived in Duluth for a while, but never made it up that far (crazy, I know!). Myra LOVED the rock beach in Grand Marais; she would have been content to just play there the whole trip.
We spent over 30 hours in the car in July and Myra was a total champ. Zero crying and less than 5 minutes of whining total. Before we even got out of town on the first trip, she said, "out! out!" and we were pretty nervous about how it would go, but she was fine. I probably whined more than she did (I was feeling okay-ish, but not wonderful, in July).
In August, my dad and I saw Paul McCartney live at Target Field. Never in a million years did I think I'd get to see one of The Beatles live, and wow he still sounds amazing! He played for three hours straight. I can cross that off my bucket list now.
Myra and Rowdy have become quite the buddies this summer. She loves to throw the ball for him, go on walks with him, pat him and say, "buh boyyyyyyy (good boy)!" We recently got a dog park in town and I can't tell who has the most fun there, Myra or Rowdy. She loves just running around, petting the dogs, throwing the ball, playing in dirt, all of it. The first time we went, we saw a Great Dane and she kept pointing at him and saying, "horse!"
Our county fair was great this year. Trevor was gone for it last year and I was dairy-free, so that was kind of a bust. Myra really liked checking out the animals, people, and tractors. We briefly went through the tractors the first time we went. The next morning I told Myra we were going to the fair again and she kept saying what I thought was "doctor." When we parked at the fair, I realized she had been saying, "tractor!"
Myra has gotten to be so much fun--lots of talking, walking, running, doing. This child is OBSESSED with bubbles. She loves playing with real bubbles and will make anything around the house into "bubbles" (a toy drum stick and a cup is pretend bubbles to her). Grandpa spoils her with his mission to find the best bubbles on the planet and recently bought a pretty fabulous bubble gun for her to use.
Food trials are going well, we have taken a couple breaks due to me feeling like garbage, Myra being sick (she had Hand, Foot, and Mouth last month), that sort of thing. We usually take a break any time she has something going on that might cause confusing symptoms. Our last "pass" was corn which has been huge! Corn syrup is in so many things, plus she can now have Kix, Corn Chex, Fritos, Quinoa/Corn pasta, corn on the cob... Sometime in the last month, we dropped her morning nap so she just takes one in the afternoon now. It's not always super long (always at least an hour), but planning things around just one nap has made life much easier. She doesn't really have a clue what's going on as far as my pregnancy/future big sister, but the other day she did pat my belly and say, "ball!" At my 12 week appointment, it took the doctor a little bit to find baby's heartbeat, but as soon as we heard it Myra said, "HI!" But really, I think she's pretty clueless.
That, in a nutshell, was our summer! We got to spend time with friends (some we hardly see--two even moved back to town!), lots of trips to the waterpark and different parks in town. Myra could spend all day playing with sand, swinging, and sliding. She is also a fan of bike rides. She climbs into the Burley and puts on her helmet.
I promise to write a little more regularly now--if for no other reason than for us to read in the future. Writing it publicly means I have no excuse, right? Also, the Causes posts have been slacking because July was a tough month (not much for awareness stuff that I could find, and no one to write on the topics I could find) and the two I had for August fell through (life happens, it's all good!). So, hopefully, no more blog crickets, okay? OK!
And well, who doesn't love a random photo of a sleeping toddler?
If you don't care why I haven't posted all summer, you can skip this paragraph. If you're nosey, read on. I went back to find my last real post (not counting my Causes posts, which are definitely real, but you know what I mean) and it seems I was a bit of a blog failure this spring, too. When I sat down to write this, I didn't intend to start out with this big explanation, but here it is. I found out the day after Easter that I was pregnant. I had some weird tests (really light, slightly darker, light again, darker, etc.) for a week and finally went in for blood work a week after my first positive test. My HCG and progesterone were low (HCG 34 and progesterone almost 0) which was definitely not a good sign for a pregnancy. I went back 48 hours later for a repeat; ideally, HCG would have at least doubled in that time and HCG was 1. So, no baby (a very early miscarriage, or might even call it a chemical pregnancy). Because of the weird tests, neither of us totally got our hopes up and definitely never had a "woo! we're having a baby!" moment. My body didn't care and I still felt pregnant that whole time (sick, tired, blah). Luckily, I got pregnant again a few weeks later and I'm now 17 weeks and feeling baby kicks every day. Because of my history (two losses), my doctor ordered an ultrasound and blood work at my 8 week appointment. Baby looked good but my progesterone was low. I never had it checked with Myra and she was totally fine, but my doctor wanted to put me on progesterone just to help support the pregnancy until I hit 12 weeks. So, I got two rounds of two shots in the butt followed by a month of suppositories and all was well. ANYWAY, what that all really means is I've been tired and sick then extra tired and extra sick (progesterone side effects) for most of the summer. It's only been the last few weeks I have been feeling pretty darn good, but I still love naps. Again, I didn't exactly mean to get into the specifics of all that, but there it is-my legitimate excuse for failing at the blog. I believe I had a similar lapse when I was pregnant with Myra.
17 weeks with Baby 2, a bit bigger than 17 weeks with Myra! (Also, not in Hawaii this time, sad face)
Trevor just started his final year of undergrad (Biology-Biomedical Science/Pre-Dentistry) and is busy, busy, busy studying for the DAT, filling out dental school applications, shadowing, etc., on top of being a student, husband, dad, First Sergeant... That all leaves us both pretty busy. We somehow make time for him to play softball/bowl (depending on season), so we agreed we need to make time for me to go do something on my own, too. Until I come up with a better idea, I will be spending my Sunday mornings at a coffee shop while blogging and/or wasting time.
I helped run a booth for my babywearing group at a Baby Expo...and Myra got to meet a couple of the Vikings Cheerleaders.
Myra and I survived without Trevor for two and a half weeks in June while he was at Camp Ripley playing GI Joe (normally these 2-3 weeks are no big deal, but early pregnancy made it suuuuuper fun). I felt like crap and slept every second I could, but survival was the goal. Trevor was gone for Father's Day, but Myra and I went to my great-aunt and uncle's 50th wedding anniversary party then to my dad's for a cookout.
Myra and I went to the Minnesota Zoo with Grandma Christy and my nephews. I was curious if she would turn into a zoo animal herself without a nap, but she found a way to squeeze one in.
Thunder of Drums is an annual Drum Corps International competition Trevor and his family attend every year. It's actually where I met half his family for the very first time many years ago. This year was Myra's first time and she did very well!
Most of Trevor's softball games were late games this summer, but we did get to watch him play at least once!
Every summer I/we go visit my aunt/uncle/cousins in Wisconsin. For the last several years, they have lived in the Madison area, but since our last visit they moved to Green Bay. It was fun to visit their new home and see some new places with them. We went to Bay Beach Amusement Park and took Myra on a couple rides. Trevor got to go on the doozies on behalf of our family. As he was boarding the scrambler he sent me a text, "I am not looking forward to this." haha, what a good sport!
A week after our return from Green Bay, we went to the North Shore for a long weekend mini vacation. I spent a week every summer "up north" with my grandparents and cousins, but I haven't been back in about 14 years. It was fun to see the area again and share that with Trevor. He lived in Duluth for a while, but never made it up that far (crazy, I know!). Myra LOVED the rock beach in Grand Marais; she would have been content to just play there the whole trip.
We spent over 30 hours in the car in July and Myra was a total champ. Zero crying and less than 5 minutes of whining total. Before we even got out of town on the first trip, she said, "out! out!" and we were pretty nervous about how it would go, but she was fine. I probably whined more than she did (I was feeling okay-ish, but not wonderful, in July).
In August, my dad and I saw Paul McCartney live at Target Field. Never in a million years did I think I'd get to see one of The Beatles live, and wow he still sounds amazing! He played for three hours straight. I can cross that off my bucket list now.
Myra and Rowdy have become quite the buddies this summer. She loves to throw the ball for him, go on walks with him, pat him and say, "buh boyyyyyyy (good boy)!" We recently got a dog park in town and I can't tell who has the most fun there, Myra or Rowdy. She loves just running around, petting the dogs, throwing the ball, playing in dirt, all of it. The first time we went, we saw a Great Dane and she kept pointing at him and saying, "horse!"
Our county fair was great this year. Trevor was gone for it last year and I was dairy-free, so that was kind of a bust. Myra really liked checking out the animals, people, and tractors. We briefly went through the tractors the first time we went. The next morning I told Myra we were going to the fair again and she kept saying what I thought was "doctor." When we parked at the fair, I realized she had been saying, "tractor!"
Myra has gotten to be so much fun--lots of talking, walking, running, doing. This child is OBSESSED with bubbles. She loves playing with real bubbles and will make anything around the house into "bubbles" (a toy drum stick and a cup is pretend bubbles to her). Grandpa spoils her with his mission to find the best bubbles on the planet and recently bought a pretty fabulous bubble gun for her to use.
Food trials are going well, we have taken a couple breaks due to me feeling like garbage, Myra being sick (she had Hand, Foot, and Mouth last month), that sort of thing. We usually take a break any time she has something going on that might cause confusing symptoms. Our last "pass" was corn which has been huge! Corn syrup is in so many things, plus she can now have Kix, Corn Chex, Fritos, Quinoa/Corn pasta, corn on the cob... Sometime in the last month, we dropped her morning nap so she just takes one in the afternoon now. It's not always super long (always at least an hour), but planning things around just one nap has made life much easier. She doesn't really have a clue what's going on as far as my pregnancy/future big sister, but the other day she did pat my belly and say, "ball!" At my 12 week appointment, it took the doctor a little bit to find baby's heartbeat, but as soon as we heard it Myra said, "HI!" But really, I think she's pretty clueless.
That, in a nutshell, was our summer! We got to spend time with friends (some we hardly see--two even moved back to town!), lots of trips to the waterpark and different parks in town. Myra could spend all day playing with sand, swinging, and sliding. She is also a fan of bike rides. She climbs into the Burley and puts on her helmet.
I promise to write a little more regularly now--if for no other reason than for us to read in the future. Writing it publicly means I have no excuse, right? Also, the Causes posts have been slacking because July was a tough month (not much for awareness stuff that I could find, and no one to write on the topics I could find) and the two I had for August fell through (life happens, it's all good!). So, hopefully, no more blog crickets, okay? OK!
And well, who doesn't love a random photo of a sleeping toddler?
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Pregnancy Loss.
October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance month. Since we're included in those statistics, I thought I would share (ramble?) a bit (a LOT?) today. Our experience with pregnancy loss (miscarriage) happened in June 2011, so anyone who reads this and knows us personally: no, we are not currently going through this. I've been meaning to sit down and write this for a long time. When I was trying to sort through my emotions, I found this blog (and still follow it, same one that got me into cloth diapers) and it was so helpful.
I would like to start with a few disclaimers. Trevor and I both experienced miscarriage, they were not just my babies; however, what I'm about to share are my personal thoughts and feelings. Trevor has his own, but these are mine. So, if you're wondering why I keep saying "I" when they weren't just my babies, that's why. There is absolutely positively no right or wrong way to feel or think after a loss. So, again, these are my thoughts and feelings, but that in no way means my feelings should reflect those of other people who have also experienced a loss. What I think and feel may or may not be the same as what others think and feel, and that's perfectly acceptable. There are pieces of our story that stick out to me, but I will never ever say that anything makes it harder than someone else's experience with miscarriage. Nor will I ever minimize our experience by saying someone else had it harder than I/we did. Also, many people have struggles related to becoming parents that are similar, but different (infertility, infant loss, etc.); I don't claim to know how that feels and that's okay. Some of our feelings probably mirror each other, but our journeys are different and I do understand that. Each individual experience is just that, individual. There is no right or wrong, better or worse. For those of you who think I'm talking about you at times in here, you're probably right. And don't worry, I'm genuinely and wholeheartedly happy for all of you...now. I had good and bad days then, I think you can probably understand that, but this isn't about now, this is about how I felt then. No hard feelings, pinky swear. [Addition after completing this post: I feel the need to write, "But really, I'm okay, I'm not a mess over this and life does continue and life is still good" but I feel like that would be minimizing my feelings throughout this whole process. I mean, I really am okay and happy and all that, but that doesn't take away from how horribly, awfully, gut wrenchingly sad this was for us. And the memory of this experience will always be that way. Just because I was a mess for a while, understandably so, doesn't mean I'm not strong or okay or mentally healthy. So, there's that, too, for whatever it's worth.] And finally, I don't really know where I'm going with this; I'm just going to write, and I'm not going to proof read. So, read on if you'd like.
The background info (skip this if you're not interested, there's your warning): I love kids. Trevor loves kids. Kids almost always love both of us. We wanted to wait until just the right time to have our own. Knowing there would never be a perfect time, but there would certainly be a right time, Trevor approached me about trying to get pregnant before he deployed to Kuwait. We started talking seriously about it late February 2011 (knowing he was leaving that May) and decided to go for it in March. I got my IUD out (which was a fiasco in itself, but whatever) and the doctor who removed it semi-politely told me the odds of us getting pregnant between the end of March and the beginning of May were not good. We're not idiots, we knew it might not happen, but way to give us a challenge. I started tracking my cycle right away, ovulation predictor strips, temperature taking, period tracking and all the other exciting signs of fertility. Trevor left for the first time of this tour (those of you who have been through deployments know there's a lot of back and forth during pre-deployment training) on Mother's Day, 2011. I ovulated the day after he left and got a positive pregnancy test 9 days later (pretty early!), on May 19. Trevor was at Camp Ripley and I got a hold of him, called to make my first doctor's appointment (don't even get me started on the insurance nonsense that required me to doctor an hour away) and started feeling like garbage and exhausted almost immediately. Trevor came home for Memorial Day weekend and we told our immediate families the news so Trevor could be a part of that. I was 5 weeks pregnant at the time. I had two friends pregnant within a few weeks of me, too. One was even another Army Wife going through the same deployment. I knew the statistics for miscarriage. If you know me, you know my way to cope with good or bad is to fill myself with more knowledge than I could possibly need, so I had done my homework on risks and all that. Being completely honest and not even a little bit "hindsight is 20/20" I had a funny feeling. I wouldn't call it "knowing something was wrong," but I remember distinctly thinking "if any of us three has a miscarriage (statistics are right around 30% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, depending on who you ask), I bet it's me." I was so anxious, nervous, excited I wanted to get into the doctor ASAP. The earliest they could/would see me was June 20. Trevor was able to be on the phone for that first appointment and his mom and one of his sister's came with me. This was my first pregnancy ultrasound, so I had no idea what to expect or what I was seeing on the screen. My doctor said, "now, each pregnancy is associated with a sac..." and I was thinking, "OK, cool, as in...each pregnancy in the world" not each pregnancy INSIDE MY BELLY. So she continued on, "so here's one here...and here's another there!" And I just blinked and she said, "so it looks like twins!" Trevor was silent. His mom and sister were ecstatic, and I had some silent panic going on, truth be told. Someone asked Trevor if he heard all that and he said, "if you could see my face, you'd know I did!" Anyway... there were two babies, two heartbeats, both within "healthy" range, but one noticeably slower than the other. So, my doctor scheduled me for a follow up ultrasound the next week just to check in on things. I went straight to the library to check out books on twins and terrified myself about vanishing twins, where one just kind of absorbs into the other. I was worried about that weaker heartbeat. I spent all week hoping my funny feeling was just be being dramatic and that heartbeat would pick up and that little baby would catch up. I kept reminding myself it was still within healthy range, no need to panic. I pictured going into labor with much less predictability, how much help I would need with two babies (Trevor wouldn't be home until four months after the due date plus they'd likely be born early). We talked about baby names and picked out two of each sex just in case (we wanted to talk about it while we were in the same time zone, before Trevor actually left the country-he was still training in Wisconsin at this point). It didn't take long at all before we both really embraced the idea of having twins.
If you skipped all that background stuff, let me catch you up. Trevor was still at his pre-deployment training in Wisconsin. I was pregnant with twins and had seen/heard their heartbeats a week prior, Trevor was on the phone for that appointment, everything was pretty normal. That's the short version. Anyway, Trevor's other sister was able to go to the follow up ultrasound with me and, once again, Trevor was able to be on the phone for it. I explained the situation (Trevor/phone call) to the ultrasound tech and she said I could call him once she got all set up and ready to go. She was prodding around, looking at the screen (it wasn't facing me yet) and I just kept getting more and more anxious. Trevor's sister was just watching her and the screen, we were both excited. The tech asked me if I had had any cramping or bleeding and I got more nervous. I said no and she said okay. I looked at Jamie and she tried to reassure me. I figured they ask everyone that just kind of checking in or something. It felt like an eternity, but probably wasn't long at all, but the tech told me she was not able to find any heartbeats. Neither baby. I was shocked. I had semi-prepared myself to only find one, even to have a vanishing twin, but no heartbeats at all??? I had no cramping, no bleeding, no loss of pregnancy symptoms (had actually started taking Zofran for nausea it was so bad), no physical symptoms whatsoever. (This is referred to as a missed miscarriage.) Just shocked. I don't really remember how the rest of the appointment went, there wasn't much to it. The tech told me my doctor would be in touch with me soon. I still hadn't called Trevor. He was waiting for me to call so he could hear the heartbeats. I had to tell him. We walked out to my car and I mostly just stood there with my phone in my hand wondering how the hell I was going to call Trevor, who was literally pausing his own training (firing range, I think?) for a year long deployment for this. I was shaking. I couldn't even open my mouth for a bit, knowing I'd burst into tears if I did. His sister said what she could, but there's nothing you can really say to change it, make it better, it just is. (Here's where the real emotions will come in-no right or wrong, people.) So, I just had to do it. I had to call. At that moment, I would have rather gotten that news 100 times myself than had to be the one to tell Trevor. I knew he'd want to be there. I didn't know if it would seem real to him. He's always been so "medical" about stuff (it happens, you know the statistics, etc.) I was terrified of how he would react. But I just did it. I dialed (or whatever we do on cell phones now) and he answered. He was expecting to hear heartbeats and excitement. I didn't know what to say. So, I just said, "there were no heartbeats" and cried. I don't remember the rest of the conversation. It was brief. There wasn't much to say. I made it clear and he said he was sorry and I said I was sorry, too and we hung up. Remember how I said don't get me started about the insurance nonsense? Well this ultrasound was in Mankato so I had to drive myself home which was an hour drive. I texted a few people right away because I didn't want to get the excited texts "how was your appointment?!?" (I had told my boss, some close friends and family members.) I pulled up to our house and, like usual, got the mail. You'll never guess what was in my mailbox... A baby shower invite. For someone who wasn't married and the baby wasn't planned. (All babies are awesome, but just take a second to think about that in my current state of mind.) I'm pretty sure I littered that invitation. And I do not litter. The rest of the day is a blur. My doctor was out of the office that day (fabulous) but called me anyway to explain my options. I could let my body (hopefully) recognize the miscarriage and let things happen naturally. My doctor was very clear I didn't need to do anything, at least not yet. She then explained that if I wanted to, or if my body didn't recognize what had happened, I could get a D&C where the "tissue" (babies and all that) would be removed in a surgical procedure. (I promise I will stop reminding you all of my disclaimers after this one, but remember, this is how I felt about my situation and my body, not implying anything more about others and their feelings/choices/situation.) I was so sad and hurt and angry and, honestly, grossed out that I had two dead babies in my body I wanted them to do whatever it took to make it stop as soon as possible. I didn't hesitate one bit telling my doctor as much and she scheduled a pre-op appointment for the next day. I, of course, talked to Trevor to make sure he didn't have any reservations and he fully supported my decision. Aside from that logistical issue of talking to my doctor then talking to Trevor about the D&C, I screamed bloody murder and sobbed like never before into my pillow the entire night. The entire.night. It was awful. I wanted to talk to Trevor but I didn't even know what to say. I didn't know what I wanted to hear. There were still people who didn't know. I had just said goodbye to my husband for a year and now I was saying goodbye to my two babies I never got to meet. What was I supposed to do, just stop thinking about the baby names and how we were going to arrange two cribs in one room? I still had all my pregnancy symptoms, so on top of the emotional nightmare that was happening, I felt nauseous and constipated (thanks, Zofran) and exhausted. I was sad. Hurt. Angry. Confused. We would be AMAZING parents. We planned this. We were ready. WHY?????? At some point I fell asleep and had to gather myself up to go back to Mankato for my pre-op appointment the next day. Trevor was very busy with all his training, but doing the very best he could to be there for me. I was hoping he was processing all this okay, but I was really in no position to be caring for someone else at that time. I was texting him while in the waiting room for my pre-op and somehow it came up to see if Trevor could come home for a few days. For me. For him. A distracted soldier is..well...not a good thing, let's just say that. The details of all that are a blur, but a very good friend (fast forward...Myra's godfather) took off on the 5+ hour drive to pick him up before we even had official approval that he would be allowed to leave. Trevor's mom helped with the red cross message (sad, but we live in a world where they have to verify this type of situation is legitimate, so it all has to be official). I was hopeful, but not getting too excited. Unfortunately, the military has disappointed at times in the past, and I couldn't handle any more of that right then. I went in for my appointment and asked for another ultrasound. I was so shocked the day prior, I didn't even ask to look at the screen myself. My doctor kindly obliged and said many women ask the same thing. She pointed out where I saw the flutters of the heartbeats for me the first time, and said, "see how they're not moving now?" Then she turned on the sound to show there was nothing to hear. It was hard to see and hear, but comforting at the same time. I truly knew this was real now. And no, not closure. We're way far away from that at this point. Again, more blur of memory, but I went home and had gotten word that Trevor would be allowed to come home for a few days, so we were both glad we had someone already on the way to go get him. They arrived late that night and it was a quick drop off. We hugged, I (we?) cried and at some point I turned into an exhausted, defeated zombie. The next day was my best friend's (fast forward...Myra's godmother) birthday. I know she understood then and still does, but I had this nagging feeling she would know I wasn't genuinely perky in my "Happy Birthday!!" text message. (Stop worrying about other people and worry about yourself for once!) I was sedated for the D&C, everything was explained to Trevor, recovery at the hospital was minimal and we were on our way home. Now, keep in mind, I was still taking Zofran for nausea because my body still didn't get the message that I didn't need pregnancy symptoms anymore. So, I think by the day of my D&C I was on like day 9 of not pooping. Pretty uncomfortable considering what else had just gone on in that part of my body. My doctor encouraged me to wait a day or two if possible before trying an enema. Ultimately, I did and it worked, but it just wasn't a fun couple of days. It wasn't awful physically, but all things considered, I would have much rather been pregnant and sick with my husband at Fort McCoy. Trevor was wonderful and I am so glad he was able to come home for those few days. He did, however, have his mind on the mission (training and deployment) and wanted to get back sooner than later. I had a bit of a meltdown about him leaving on July 3, leaving me to "enjoy" 4th of July with......????? I would have had lots of offers, but would have been miserable with anyone else. So, I talked him into staying and brought him back to Fort McCoy on July 5. (He had approval for 10 days just to be safe, but we both knew he definitely wouldn't use them all.) We certainly didn't use it as a holiday to party back home while all of his fellow soldiers were working hard away from their loved ones. It was far from a party zone at the Gibbs house, I promise. My doctor wrote me a note to be off work for a week following the surgery (so almost two weeks off work in total) which was a much needed mental health (and physical health) break.
I had planned to go visit family near Maidson, WI the next weekend (a week and a half later) because there was a Serving Our Troops event at Fort McCoy that Sunday, so it made sense to make a weekend out of the trip. I needed to have some normal in my life, so I kept those plans. I was doing okay, not crying myself to sleep or anything (although if I had been, I'd say that's perfectly acceptable at that stage, too), but I'd have waves of sadness, anger, whatever. Mid-July, the soldiers got one last "pass" to come home and spend time with families before actually leaving the country. My post-op appointment was during that time, so Trevor was there with me for that. My doctor knew our situation (deployment), but gave us the medical go-ahead to try again any time we were ready. It was good to hear...the idea of trying again and this wasn't the end of the road, but it was also like a big fat slap in the face (not my doctor's fault, of course). After such excitement early on in the deployment, and with Trevor leaving the country in two days, NOW we can start over?
I had a few friends I knew who had been through miscarriage(s). They were all so helpful in their own ways. One told me, "It's sad, very sad, and it will always be sad, but it will get better," which was enough hope for me at the time to get through the bad moments. The "it will get better" was true, but I still had a few meltdowns here and there. One friend mostly just listened and validated my feelings, which was amazing. Another shared her story of what really helped her get over that hump...many might call it closure (maybe she even did?) but for some reason I just don't like that word. Regardless, I have a small handful of amazing women in my life who have been through this and just get it. No "it happened for a reason" or "you'll try again when Trevor is home" - yeah, those things might be true but not even a little bit helpful in my situation, thanks but no thanks. Just compassion. I'm very grateful for those women and their open ears, kind words, and big hearts.
Speaking of my meltdowns...I just want to throw it out there that I had some awful feelings at times. Not all the time, not every time, but sometimes. I would hear about friends getting pregnant, having babies (especially when it was a girl...I am all about a healthy baby is absolutely enough, but I desperately wanted a girl), even telling me they were considering trying to get pregnant (just having the option to try could make me jealous, resentful, sad, hurt, angry, pick an emotion and I felt it)-any of those scenarios could throw me into a tizzy of anger, sadness, or, most often, resentment. (Reminding myself about my promise not to refer back to my disclaimer....but I really want to....I love all your babies, really, seriously, honestly do!) Not only did we have this setback when we were SO ready for a baby (babIES!!), and we HAD babies...right there...like, on the tip of our parenthood tongues (that doesn't even make sense, but go with it...), now we have to wait a year to even attempt it again? How is this fair? Mind you, I worked as the Abused Children's Program Coordinator for a non-profit organization helping individuals victimized by violence, so I was seeing situations every single day where people were treating children like absolute garbage. And, often, they had multiple children. How can these people have one, two, five kids and treat them so badly?! And I can't??? It was hard. There were also the pregnancy messages sprinkled through the coming months...all the way until the month we would have been due. It seems some of the people with whom we shared our good news couldn't contain their excitement and spread the word. Apparently, they didn't get the memo when we miscarried. Trevor even got a birthday card (in January, a few weeks before the would-have-been due date) telling him what a good daddy he will be soon! All that aside, randomly, I would just get sad. It didn't have to be someone else's baby shower or the stupid reminder that I wasn't pregnant by getting my period every month, but I'd just think about it. Thank goodness for Rowdy, he was so good for me that year. Honestly, those feelings got better, but still continued until Myra was born and it started to sink in she was healthy. Friends would want to start trying to get pregnant, or some would get pregnant on accident, and I would get this twinge of...I don't even know what, something unpleasant. Again, I was happy for them, too, but it was just hard wishing I could be there, too. Even when I was, I still didn't have the baby in my arms I had wanted for so long.
The friend who shared with me some of the things that helped her heal? She gave me a brilliant idea. I had been wanting a tattoo for the longest time but couldn't come up with anything. Then it just hit me. A tattoo for these babies I never got to meet. I carried them every second of their lives and loved them with every mother bone in my body, but never got to meet them. I wanted them to be a part of me forever, just like any child. So, I got to work on brainstorming what my tattoo would be and eventually came up with something perfect. Two red snowflakes, similar but different. Snowflakes because they would have been winter babies (quite possibly born early since they were twins), red because they were actually due in January (garnet birthstone) and similar but different because there were two sacs indicating they were likely fraternal, not identical. I also have a big scar on my shoulder, so I chose to get the tattoo right there for symbolic reasons. I don't run around looking for opportunities to bombard people with the fact that I've had a miscarriage, but it is nice to have something tangible that incites conversation about it with people. When people ask about my tattoo, I tell them. (Um, not in this much detail haha, but I tell them the basics). I don't sit and pout about it every day. I don't cry about it often (I get teary eyed every so often, when I really think about it). But it's nice to remember. I've given birth to one baby (a super awesome, amazing baby), but I've heard three heartbeats in my body. I've seen a positive pregnancy test twice. Myra was not my first experience with pregnancy, OB appointments, baby books, picking out names, etc. She's not the first child about whom I've pictured the future.
Myra is amazing. She is perfect for our family and was SO ready to be here. I spent the year Trevor was away tracking my fertility. I figured I should probably make good use of all that time. My cycle was 100% regular and predictable. I could predict my period 5 months in advance if I wanted to do so. I was positive we had missed ovulation when Trevor got home, but, homecomings are exciting and stuff happens whether you think you're fertile or not and, whaddya know...positive pregnancy test two weeks later. I'll spare you the details, but we know for a fact she was conceived the day Trevor came home. My labor and delivery with her was insanely easy and fast (especially for a first timer). We know in our hearts she was meant to be with us, and we were meant to be with her. As soon as she possibly could, she made her way into my womb (kind of an odd word?) and into our lives.
I'm a firm believer in "everything happens for a reason," but I've never been able to grasp that idea in this specific situation. It is what it is. Life can be confusing and hard. Unanswered prayers and all that jazz. But in the end, we're very blessed. No if's, and's, or but's about it.
PS-someone in an online group shared this with me and I love, love, love it. It's from a book.
(Swedish title is "Den lilla sorgen", i.e. "The Little Sorrow"). I'll translate a section: "No one can take away from us the happiness we have owned. The sadness that comes afterwards can not overshadow that joy. The happiness for a pregnancy is and remains ours, whatever happens. For a few weeks we live together with the little living things, and during that time our expectations are pure and fresh - nothing differs between the children that make it and those that we lose. Allow yourself to be proud of the child you never got to meet. Never feel ashamed of missing a child that others call a fetus. Honor its memory in your mind."
Edited to add: We went through a second, and very different, loss three years later. Read about it here.
I would like to start with a few disclaimers. Trevor and I both experienced miscarriage, they were not just my babies; however, what I'm about to share are my personal thoughts and feelings. Trevor has his own, but these are mine. So, if you're wondering why I keep saying "I" when they weren't just my babies, that's why. There is absolutely positively no right or wrong way to feel or think after a loss. So, again, these are my thoughts and feelings, but that in no way means my feelings should reflect those of other people who have also experienced a loss. What I think and feel may or may not be the same as what others think and feel, and that's perfectly acceptable. There are pieces of our story that stick out to me, but I will never ever say that anything makes it harder than someone else's experience with miscarriage. Nor will I ever minimize our experience by saying someone else had it harder than I/we did. Also, many people have struggles related to becoming parents that are similar, but different (infertility, infant loss, etc.); I don't claim to know how that feels and that's okay. Some of our feelings probably mirror each other, but our journeys are different and I do understand that. Each individual experience is just that, individual. There is no right or wrong, better or worse. For those of you who think I'm talking about you at times in here, you're probably right. And don't worry, I'm genuinely and wholeheartedly happy for all of you...now. I had good and bad days then, I think you can probably understand that, but this isn't about now, this is about how I felt then. No hard feelings, pinky swear. [Addition after completing this post: I feel the need to write, "But really, I'm okay, I'm not a mess over this and life does continue and life is still good" but I feel like that would be minimizing my feelings throughout this whole process. I mean, I really am okay and happy and all that, but that doesn't take away from how horribly, awfully, gut wrenchingly sad this was for us. And the memory of this experience will always be that way. Just because I was a mess for a while, understandably so, doesn't mean I'm not strong or okay or mentally healthy. So, there's that, too, for whatever it's worth.] And finally, I don't really know where I'm going with this; I'm just going to write, and I'm not going to proof read. So, read on if you'd like.
The background info (skip this if you're not interested, there's your warning): I love kids. Trevor loves kids. Kids almost always love both of us. We wanted to wait until just the right time to have our own. Knowing there would never be a perfect time, but there would certainly be a right time, Trevor approached me about trying to get pregnant before he deployed to Kuwait. We started talking seriously about it late February 2011 (knowing he was leaving that May) and decided to go for it in March. I got my IUD out (which was a fiasco in itself, but whatever) and the doctor who removed it semi-politely told me the odds of us getting pregnant between the end of March and the beginning of May were not good. We're not idiots, we knew it might not happen, but way to give us a challenge. I started tracking my cycle right away, ovulation predictor strips, temperature taking, period tracking and all the other exciting signs of fertility. Trevor left for the first time of this tour (those of you who have been through deployments know there's a lot of back and forth during pre-deployment training) on Mother's Day, 2011. I ovulated the day after he left and got a positive pregnancy test 9 days later (pretty early!), on May 19. Trevor was at Camp Ripley and I got a hold of him, called to make my first doctor's appointment (don't even get me started on the insurance nonsense that required me to doctor an hour away) and started feeling like garbage and exhausted almost immediately. Trevor came home for Memorial Day weekend and we told our immediate families the news so Trevor could be a part of that. I was 5 weeks pregnant at the time. I had two friends pregnant within a few weeks of me, too. One was even another Army Wife going through the same deployment. I knew the statistics for miscarriage. If you know me, you know my way to cope with good or bad is to fill myself with more knowledge than I could possibly need, so I had done my homework on risks and all that. Being completely honest and not even a little bit "hindsight is 20/20" I had a funny feeling. I wouldn't call it "knowing something was wrong," but I remember distinctly thinking "if any of us three has a miscarriage (statistics are right around 30% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, depending on who you ask), I bet it's me." I was so anxious, nervous, excited I wanted to get into the doctor ASAP. The earliest they could/would see me was June 20. Trevor was able to be on the phone for that first appointment and his mom and one of his sister's came with me. This was my first pregnancy ultrasound, so I had no idea what to expect or what I was seeing on the screen. My doctor said, "now, each pregnancy is associated with a sac..." and I was thinking, "OK, cool, as in...each pregnancy in the world" not each pregnancy INSIDE MY BELLY. So she continued on, "so here's one here...and here's another there!" And I just blinked and she said, "so it looks like twins!" Trevor was silent. His mom and sister were ecstatic, and I had some silent panic going on, truth be told. Someone asked Trevor if he heard all that and he said, "if you could see my face, you'd know I did!" Anyway... there were two babies, two heartbeats, both within "healthy" range, but one noticeably slower than the other. So, my doctor scheduled me for a follow up ultrasound the next week just to check in on things. I went straight to the library to check out books on twins and terrified myself about vanishing twins, where one just kind of absorbs into the other. I was worried about that weaker heartbeat. I spent all week hoping my funny feeling was just be being dramatic and that heartbeat would pick up and that little baby would catch up. I kept reminding myself it was still within healthy range, no need to panic. I pictured going into labor with much less predictability, how much help I would need with two babies (Trevor wouldn't be home until four months after the due date plus they'd likely be born early). We talked about baby names and picked out two of each sex just in case (we wanted to talk about it while we were in the same time zone, before Trevor actually left the country-he was still training in Wisconsin at this point). It didn't take long at all before we both really embraced the idea of having twins.
If you skipped all that background stuff, let me catch you up. Trevor was still at his pre-deployment training in Wisconsin. I was pregnant with twins and had seen/heard their heartbeats a week prior, Trevor was on the phone for that appointment, everything was pretty normal. That's the short version. Anyway, Trevor's other sister was able to go to the follow up ultrasound with me and, once again, Trevor was able to be on the phone for it. I explained the situation (Trevor/phone call) to the ultrasound tech and she said I could call him once she got all set up and ready to go. She was prodding around, looking at the screen (it wasn't facing me yet) and I just kept getting more and more anxious. Trevor's sister was just watching her and the screen, we were both excited. The tech asked me if I had had any cramping or bleeding and I got more nervous. I said no and she said okay. I looked at Jamie and she tried to reassure me. I figured they ask everyone that just kind of checking in or something. It felt like an eternity, but probably wasn't long at all, but the tech told me she was not able to find any heartbeats. Neither baby. I was shocked. I had semi-prepared myself to only find one, even to have a vanishing twin, but no heartbeats at all??? I had no cramping, no bleeding, no loss of pregnancy symptoms (had actually started taking Zofran for nausea it was so bad), no physical symptoms whatsoever. (This is referred to as a missed miscarriage.) Just shocked. I don't really remember how the rest of the appointment went, there wasn't much to it. The tech told me my doctor would be in touch with me soon. I still hadn't called Trevor. He was waiting for me to call so he could hear the heartbeats. I had to tell him. We walked out to my car and I mostly just stood there with my phone in my hand wondering how the hell I was going to call Trevor, who was literally pausing his own training (firing range, I think?) for a year long deployment for this. I was shaking. I couldn't even open my mouth for a bit, knowing I'd burst into tears if I did. His sister said what she could, but there's nothing you can really say to change it, make it better, it just is. (Here's where the real emotions will come in-no right or wrong, people.) So, I just had to do it. I had to call. At that moment, I would have rather gotten that news 100 times myself than had to be the one to tell Trevor. I knew he'd want to be there. I didn't know if it would seem real to him. He's always been so "medical" about stuff (it happens, you know the statistics, etc.) I was terrified of how he would react. But I just did it. I dialed (or whatever we do on cell phones now) and he answered. He was expecting to hear heartbeats and excitement. I didn't know what to say. So, I just said, "there were no heartbeats" and cried. I don't remember the rest of the conversation. It was brief. There wasn't much to say. I made it clear and he said he was sorry and I said I was sorry, too and we hung up. Remember how I said don't get me started about the insurance nonsense? Well this ultrasound was in Mankato so I had to drive myself home which was an hour drive. I texted a few people right away because I didn't want to get the excited texts "how was your appointment?!?" (I had told my boss, some close friends and family members.) I pulled up to our house and, like usual, got the mail. You'll never guess what was in my mailbox... A baby shower invite. For someone who wasn't married and the baby wasn't planned. (All babies are awesome, but just take a second to think about that in my current state of mind.) I'm pretty sure I littered that invitation. And I do not litter. The rest of the day is a blur. My doctor was out of the office that day (fabulous) but called me anyway to explain my options. I could let my body (hopefully) recognize the miscarriage and let things happen naturally. My doctor was very clear I didn't need to do anything, at least not yet. She then explained that if I wanted to, or if my body didn't recognize what had happened, I could get a D&C where the "tissue" (babies and all that) would be removed in a surgical procedure. (I promise I will stop reminding you all of my disclaimers after this one, but remember, this is how I felt about my situation and my body, not implying anything more about others and their feelings/choices/situation.) I was so sad and hurt and angry and, honestly, grossed out that I had two dead babies in my body I wanted them to do whatever it took to make it stop as soon as possible. I didn't hesitate one bit telling my doctor as much and she scheduled a pre-op appointment for the next day. I, of course, talked to Trevor to make sure he didn't have any reservations and he fully supported my decision. Aside from that logistical issue of talking to my doctor then talking to Trevor about the D&C, I screamed bloody murder and sobbed like never before into my pillow the entire night. The entire.night. It was awful. I wanted to talk to Trevor but I didn't even know what to say. I didn't know what I wanted to hear. There were still people who didn't know. I had just said goodbye to my husband for a year and now I was saying goodbye to my two babies I never got to meet. What was I supposed to do, just stop thinking about the baby names and how we were going to arrange two cribs in one room? I still had all my pregnancy symptoms, so on top of the emotional nightmare that was happening, I felt nauseous and constipated (thanks, Zofran) and exhausted. I was sad. Hurt. Angry. Confused. We would be AMAZING parents. We planned this. We were ready. WHY?????? At some point I fell asleep and had to gather myself up to go back to Mankato for my pre-op appointment the next day. Trevor was very busy with all his training, but doing the very best he could to be there for me. I was hoping he was processing all this okay, but I was really in no position to be caring for someone else at that time. I was texting him while in the waiting room for my pre-op and somehow it came up to see if Trevor could come home for a few days. For me. For him. A distracted soldier is..well...not a good thing, let's just say that. The details of all that are a blur, but a very good friend (fast forward...Myra's godfather) took off on the 5+ hour drive to pick him up before we even had official approval that he would be allowed to leave. Trevor's mom helped with the red cross message (sad, but we live in a world where they have to verify this type of situation is legitimate, so it all has to be official). I was hopeful, but not getting too excited. Unfortunately, the military has disappointed at times in the past, and I couldn't handle any more of that right then. I went in for my appointment and asked for another ultrasound. I was so shocked the day prior, I didn't even ask to look at the screen myself. My doctor kindly obliged and said many women ask the same thing. She pointed out where I saw the flutters of the heartbeats for me the first time, and said, "see how they're not moving now?" Then she turned on the sound to show there was nothing to hear. It was hard to see and hear, but comforting at the same time. I truly knew this was real now. And no, not closure. We're way far away from that at this point. Again, more blur of memory, but I went home and had gotten word that Trevor would be allowed to come home for a few days, so we were both glad we had someone already on the way to go get him. They arrived late that night and it was a quick drop off. We hugged, I (we?) cried and at some point I turned into an exhausted, defeated zombie. The next day was my best friend's (fast forward...Myra's godmother) birthday. I know she understood then and still does, but I had this nagging feeling she would know I wasn't genuinely perky in my "Happy Birthday!!" text message. (Stop worrying about other people and worry about yourself for once!) I was sedated for the D&C, everything was explained to Trevor, recovery at the hospital was minimal and we were on our way home. Now, keep in mind, I was still taking Zofran for nausea because my body still didn't get the message that I didn't need pregnancy symptoms anymore. So, I think by the day of my D&C I was on like day 9 of not pooping. Pretty uncomfortable considering what else had just gone on in that part of my body. My doctor encouraged me to wait a day or two if possible before trying an enema. Ultimately, I did and it worked, but it just wasn't a fun couple of days. It wasn't awful physically, but all things considered, I would have much rather been pregnant and sick with my husband at Fort McCoy. Trevor was wonderful and I am so glad he was able to come home for those few days. He did, however, have his mind on the mission (training and deployment) and wanted to get back sooner than later. I had a bit of a meltdown about him leaving on July 3, leaving me to "enjoy" 4th of July with......????? I would have had lots of offers, but would have been miserable with anyone else. So, I talked him into staying and brought him back to Fort McCoy on July 5. (He had approval for 10 days just to be safe, but we both knew he definitely wouldn't use them all.) We certainly didn't use it as a holiday to party back home while all of his fellow soldiers were working hard away from their loved ones. It was far from a party zone at the Gibbs house, I promise. My doctor wrote me a note to be off work for a week following the surgery (so almost two weeks off work in total) which was a much needed mental health (and physical health) break.
I had planned to go visit family near Maidson, WI the next weekend (a week and a half later) because there was a Serving Our Troops event at Fort McCoy that Sunday, so it made sense to make a weekend out of the trip. I needed to have some normal in my life, so I kept those plans. I was doing okay, not crying myself to sleep or anything (although if I had been, I'd say that's perfectly acceptable at that stage, too), but I'd have waves of sadness, anger, whatever. Mid-July, the soldiers got one last "pass" to come home and spend time with families before actually leaving the country. My post-op appointment was during that time, so Trevor was there with me for that. My doctor knew our situation (deployment), but gave us the medical go-ahead to try again any time we were ready. It was good to hear...the idea of trying again and this wasn't the end of the road, but it was also like a big fat slap in the face (not my doctor's fault, of course). After such excitement early on in the deployment, and with Trevor leaving the country in two days, NOW we can start over?
I had a few friends I knew who had been through miscarriage(s). They were all so helpful in their own ways. One told me, "It's sad, very sad, and it will always be sad, but it will get better," which was enough hope for me at the time to get through the bad moments. The "it will get better" was true, but I still had a few meltdowns here and there. One friend mostly just listened and validated my feelings, which was amazing. Another shared her story of what really helped her get over that hump...many might call it closure (maybe she even did?) but for some reason I just don't like that word. Regardless, I have a small handful of amazing women in my life who have been through this and just get it. No "it happened for a reason" or "you'll try again when Trevor is home" - yeah, those things might be true but not even a little bit helpful in my situation, thanks but no thanks. Just compassion. I'm very grateful for those women and their open ears, kind words, and big hearts.
Speaking of my meltdowns...I just want to throw it out there that I had some awful feelings at times. Not all the time, not every time, but sometimes. I would hear about friends getting pregnant, having babies (especially when it was a girl...I am all about a healthy baby is absolutely enough, but I desperately wanted a girl), even telling me they were considering trying to get pregnant (just having the option to try could make me jealous, resentful, sad, hurt, angry, pick an emotion and I felt it)-any of those scenarios could throw me into a tizzy of anger, sadness, or, most often, resentment. (Reminding myself about my promise not to refer back to my disclaimer....but I really want to....I love all your babies, really, seriously, honestly do!) Not only did we have this setback when we were SO ready for a baby (babIES!!), and we HAD babies...right there...like, on the tip of our parenthood tongues (that doesn't even make sense, but go with it...), now we have to wait a year to even attempt it again? How is this fair? Mind you, I worked as the Abused Children's Program Coordinator for a non-profit organization helping individuals victimized by violence, so I was seeing situations every single day where people were treating children like absolute garbage. And, often, they had multiple children. How can these people have one, two, five kids and treat them so badly?! And I can't??? It was hard. There were also the pregnancy messages sprinkled through the coming months...all the way until the month we would have been due. It seems some of the people with whom we shared our good news couldn't contain their excitement and spread the word. Apparently, they didn't get the memo when we miscarried. Trevor even got a birthday card (in January, a few weeks before the would-have-been due date) telling him what a good daddy he will be soon! All that aside, randomly, I would just get sad. It didn't have to be someone else's baby shower or the stupid reminder that I wasn't pregnant by getting my period every month, but I'd just think about it. Thank goodness for Rowdy, he was so good for me that year. Honestly, those feelings got better, but still continued until Myra was born and it started to sink in she was healthy. Friends would want to start trying to get pregnant, or some would get pregnant on accident, and I would get this twinge of...I don't even know what, something unpleasant. Again, I was happy for them, too, but it was just hard wishing I could be there, too. Even when I was, I still didn't have the baby in my arms I had wanted for so long.
The friend who shared with me some of the things that helped her heal? She gave me a brilliant idea. I had been wanting a tattoo for the longest time but couldn't come up with anything. Then it just hit me. A tattoo for these babies I never got to meet. I carried them every second of their lives and loved them with every mother bone in my body, but never got to meet them. I wanted them to be a part of me forever, just like any child. So, I got to work on brainstorming what my tattoo would be and eventually came up with something perfect. Two red snowflakes, similar but different. Snowflakes because they would have been winter babies (quite possibly born early since they were twins), red because they were actually due in January (garnet birthstone) and similar but different because there were two sacs indicating they were likely fraternal, not identical. I also have a big scar on my shoulder, so I chose to get the tattoo right there for symbolic reasons. I don't run around looking for opportunities to bombard people with the fact that I've had a miscarriage, but it is nice to have something tangible that incites conversation about it with people. When people ask about my tattoo, I tell them. (Um, not in this much detail haha, but I tell them the basics). I don't sit and pout about it every day. I don't cry about it often (I get teary eyed every so often, when I really think about it). But it's nice to remember. I've given birth to one baby (a super awesome, amazing baby), but I've heard three heartbeats in my body. I've seen a positive pregnancy test twice. Myra was not my first experience with pregnancy, OB appointments, baby books, picking out names, etc. She's not the first child about whom I've pictured the future.
Myra is amazing. She is perfect for our family and was SO ready to be here. I spent the year Trevor was away tracking my fertility. I figured I should probably make good use of all that time. My cycle was 100% regular and predictable. I could predict my period 5 months in advance if I wanted to do so. I was positive we had missed ovulation when Trevor got home, but, homecomings are exciting and stuff happens whether you think you're fertile or not and, whaddya know...positive pregnancy test two weeks later. I'll spare you the details, but we know for a fact she was conceived the day Trevor came home. My labor and delivery with her was insanely easy and fast (especially for a first timer). We know in our hearts she was meant to be with us, and we were meant to be with her. As soon as she possibly could, she made her way into my womb (kind of an odd word?) and into our lives.
I'm a firm believer in "everything happens for a reason," but I've never been able to grasp that idea in this specific situation. It is what it is. Life can be confusing and hard. Unanswered prayers and all that jazz. But in the end, we're very blessed. No if's, and's, or but's about it.
PS-someone in an online group shared this with me and I love, love, love it. It's from a book.
(Swedish title is "Den lilla sorgen", i.e. "The Little Sorrow"). I'll translate a section: "No one can take away from us the happiness we have owned. The sadness that comes afterwards can not overshadow that joy. The happiness for a pregnancy is and remains ours, whatever happens. For a few weeks we live together with the little living things, and during that time our expectations are pure and fresh - nothing differs between the children that make it and those that we lose. Allow yourself to be proud of the child you never got to meet. Never feel ashamed of missing a child that others call a fetus. Honor its memory in your mind."
Edited to add: We went through a second, and very different, loss three years later. Read about it here.
Friday, June 1, 2012
6 weeks
Apparently baby is the size of a blueberry today. No major changes in the last week, but some legitimate pregnancy symptoms are slowly but surely creeping up on me. I've started to get a little heartburn after eating and a tad nauseous (aka morning sickness) on a really empty stomach, at bedtime and when waking up. So, I have been having a small bedtime snack and eating something right when I wake up to help with that. I'm glad it's the weekend because I should be able to take a nap for the next three days-so much excitement ;)
Speaking of excitement, I'm still very excited about this and, honestly, feeling really good about everything. However, I am starting to get a little more anxious for our first ultrasound since we're approaching the same time frame as our miscarriage. Actually, our first appointment is one year exactly after our first appointment last time. I went in at just shy of 8 weeks last time and heart the heartbeats (2) but then 8 days later went back and there were no heartbeats. Our ultrasound this time will be at just shy of 9 weeks and I'm hoping she'll do another one a week or two after that to help reassure me the same thing won't happen again.
I imagine I'll say something to this effect with each post until we can announce everything, but to those of you I've avoided/spoken to recently, I'm so sorry I/we haven't told you. Trust me, it's killing me, but at least until the first ultra sound I just want to keep it a secret. We both do. It's hard to explain unless you've been there, but even our very closest friends and family don't know. I had a discussion with a friend about pregnancy after miscarriage and it's not even that we'd keep it a secret if we miscarried again, but we want to be able to tell people when we're ready to tell them. We don't want to be obligated to keep telling everyone to make sure everyone gets the message. We don't want to miss telling someone and, later, have them ask about the pregnancy (it happened last time very shortly after the fact and again near the due date). And we don't want to have to comfort others about the news when we should be comforting each other. I know, I hope it doesn't happen and like I said I truly am feeling really good about it, but we just want to be cautious. So, there's my big pre-apology. Sorry we lied, but we know you can forgive us :)
Anyway, that's about all for now! Oh, and the picture, even though there won't be anything to see for a while...besides some bloating/water retention.
Speaking of excitement, I'm still very excited about this and, honestly, feeling really good about everything. However, I am starting to get a little more anxious for our first ultrasound since we're approaching the same time frame as our miscarriage. Actually, our first appointment is one year exactly after our first appointment last time. I went in at just shy of 8 weeks last time and heart the heartbeats (2) but then 8 days later went back and there were no heartbeats. Our ultrasound this time will be at just shy of 9 weeks and I'm hoping she'll do another one a week or two after that to help reassure me the same thing won't happen again.
I imagine I'll say something to this effect with each post until we can announce everything, but to those of you I've avoided/spoken to recently, I'm so sorry I/we haven't told you. Trust me, it's killing me, but at least until the first ultra sound I just want to keep it a secret. We both do. It's hard to explain unless you've been there, but even our very closest friends and family don't know. I had a discussion with a friend about pregnancy after miscarriage and it's not even that we'd keep it a secret if we miscarried again, but we want to be able to tell people when we're ready to tell them. We don't want to be obligated to keep telling everyone to make sure everyone gets the message. We don't want to miss telling someone and, later, have them ask about the pregnancy (it happened last time very shortly after the fact and again near the due date). And we don't want to have to comfort others about the news when we should be comforting each other. I know, I hope it doesn't happen and like I said I truly am feeling really good about it, but we just want to be cautious. So, there's my big pre-apology. Sorry we lied, but we know you can forgive us :)
Anyway, that's about all for now! Oh, and the picture, even though there won't be anything to see for a while...besides some bloating/water retention.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Here we go again! (4 weeks)
I don't think it's any secret that Trevor and I miscarried last June (2011). I was carrying twins and to those of you who didn't know, sorry you're reading it here. It's sad, always will be, but we're doing okay. Actually...we're doing great! We're already onto round two!
Here's how it's gone so far... Oh, and I might add, we'll be putting all the mushy gushy pregnancy stuff here, so proceed at your own risk :) I realize not everyone thinks that stuff is cool so I'll mostly be keeping it off my Facebook and the other blog.
Trevor got home on May 4, 2012, a couple days too late to give this baby stuff a try...or so we thought. We literally got pregnant the day he got home. This past week, my period wasn't coming, but I didn't feel any different and took a test (Dollar Tree tests are the best by the way-seriously, plus they're cheap!) and it was negative. Still no period, took another test-negative. Yesterday Trevor and I went to Jon & Moe's for their groom's dinner. Trevor stayed up there and is golfing with Jon right now. On the way home I thought to myself, just take another test, who cares they're only $1. So I did. Now I've gotten pretty good at creating lines where they aren't, but this was no hallucination. I am pregnant. I called Trevor and told him I had a question and I didn't want Jon or Moe to hear his answer so he moved to another room. Then I just told him. This is all very surreal because we thought we had missed the chance this month. So I took a photo of the test which makes the faint line even harder to see and sent it to him. Three photos to be exact. No response. I'm in panic mode. So, I text it to Tosha who has become a pretty good line inspector herself. She confirmed it-two lines! Then Trevor responded and agreed (I thought for sure he would say he didn't see it). Trevor even asked Jon (a pretty logical dude and an OB-GYN at that) and he saw two lines, too. WOW. This is happening.
So, for fun, I took another one this morning and it was just a tad darker. For those of you who have never tried to get pregnant, peeing on a stick may become a hobby (especially at only $1 a pop) when your time comes. I did the math and I'm exactly 4 weeks today. I never knew how pregnancy was actually calculated until I was pregnant myself. Mini lesson: day 1=the first day of your period, approx day 14 or 2 weeks=ovulation and by the time you can actually take a test and find out you're pregnant you're about 4 weeks along.
Naturally, with everything we've been through, I'm nervous! But I already feel different this time around (which may or may not mean a darn thing), so I'm just letting myself be excited about it all. No symptoms so far (in the 10 hours I've known haha) other than some very minor cramping. And, yes, that's normal. I already called to get a referral to the OB we had last time because she was super amazing all around. My next big pregnancy task is figuring out how to hide not drinking at Jon and Moe's wedding tonight and Trevor's welcome home party tomorrow. Wish me luck!
-A
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