This is not a happy article.
In October 2011 I found out the best possible news that I could. After being together eleven years my husband and I were expecting our first child. I was elated. The beginning of the pregnancy was very stressful. I didn't have insurance so I went to a practice that is sliding scale depending on income. The fay before my visit, I took 5 pregnancy tests. Every one of them was positive. I had a pregnancy test at the office and it was negative. I told the Doctor I took tje home tests and she told me they can be faulty. I told her I wanted a blood test. She said there was no need for that because I wasn't pregnant. I told her that's fine, but I don't feel well (morning sickness) and my chest was sore so I wanted lab work. She finally acquiesced. After the blood draw, I bought a random sampling of pregnancy tests, they were all positive. The next day the lab called and confirmed I was 2 to 3 weeks pregnant. I decided I was not sticking with that Doctor and got a new ob.
Everything felt fine. I had morning sickness, my belly grew. I loved rubbing my belly and imagining the little person growing inside. I made a count down in the back of one of my work notebooks and ticked off the days. My mother brought me to Wedgewood and bought a beautiful Beatrice Potter dish set for the baby. I thought about all the lovely things I could teach the baby.
I had my first ultrasound at the beginning of January. I started crying when I saw the baby. So tiny! The size of a grain of rice.
The next week I felt what I can only describe as elastics snapping in my lower abdominal region. I was sure it had to be round ligament pain. I had my routine 12 week visit and the Doctor tried to listen on the doppler. There was no sound. The Doctor attempted to do an ultrasound and there was no heartbeat. The Doctor explained that he is a Doctor not an ultrasound tech so maybe he just could not find the heartbeat. We went back the next day and although I was trying to be optimistic the inevitable truth came out.
Preparing for the D & C was horrible. Basically I sat around the apartment waiting to have the baby for a week. When that didn't happen, I went to the maternity ward of the local hospital. While I was prepping for surgery a woman gave birth to her child. I wanted to die. Here she was happy and would be leaving with her child, I would be leaving empty handed.
The surgery itself was fine. Afterwards I just wanted to run out of the hospital, johnny flapping around me. They made me wait until I could drink water and I didn't pass out or vomit. The days and weeks after area blur. I literally remember nothing. I lost my job and got a new one. I was about a month into my new job when it registered I wasn't at the old company anymore.
I developed a coping mechanism of rubbing my belly as if there was someone in there still. It brought me comfort.
I never understood how I could miss someone so much who I never met.
It also bothered me that it was that final. When my grandfather passed away, there was physical evidence. We had a wake and a funeral. There was a gun salute because he was a World War Two veteran. If I want to, I can visit his grave. But for my baby? All I have is a few ultrasound pictures.
The baby would have been due 07/25/12. I was very emotional around that time. In September 2012 I learned that I was pregnant again. I had conceived a new child in the beginning of July. All I could do was cry. I didn't want this. But on the other hand I did.
I didn't enjoy the pregnancy at all. I kept waiting for the other shoe to fall. I was a mess. I couldn't look at the ultrasounds. When he started moving, I thought it was a miscarriage. I had spotting with him and I became hysterical. No really, hysterical. Crying, screaming. I felt dizzy and faint. I was so relieved that it was nothing and he was fine. I could not sleep throughout the pregnancy. I had dreams it was going to end bad.
I have my lovely son now but I feel pain because when I look at him, I think about had the other baby and how I could never have both of them. If Bean had lived, s/he would have due at the end of July, and my son was conceived at the beginning of July. And then I wonder what Bean would have been like. And then I hate myself because I love my son so much. Its a bad cycle that never stops.
I finally decided last year that having another baby would be a good idea. My son would make an amazing big brother. In October, again this is a bad month for me apparently. I found out I was pregnant. It was hard, but I could not get excited. The pregnancy was awful. I was tired all the time. I saw colored lights all the time. I felt nauseous round the clock. I couldn't poop for weeks. My lower back felt as if there was something stuck in it. I actually indulged by looking at the ultrasound and getting excited. I had the ultrasound when I was 9 weeks pregnant. The ultrasound tech said the baby was 6 weeks. I started panicking. but my husband said its fine. When my blood work came back at 11 weeks, I was told that my hormones were consistent with the baby being six weeks. As awful as it is to say, I became emotionally detached then. I already knew where this was headed. On January 1 I didn't feel well. I went to the bathroom and there where bright red clots. I went to the ER and they said the baby had a heartbeat and the bloodwork came back confirming the baby was 6 weeks. They sent me home. I had the baby around 10 am January 2nd at home. There is no way for me to describe what that was like. I wanted to lay down and die because of my toxic uterus and my trail of dead children. But I can't stop, because of my son. Everyday for a few weeks after I would drag myself out of bed and almost mechanically provide care for my little man.
Preparing for the D & C was horrible. Basically I sat around the apartment waiting to have the baby for a week. When that didn't happen, I went to the maternity ward of the local hospital. While I was prepping for surgery a woman gave birth to her child. I wanted to die. Here she was happy and would be leaving with her child, I would be leaving empty handed.
The surgery itself was fine. Afterwards I just wanted to run out of the hospital, johnny flapping around me. They made me wait until I could drink water and I didn't pass out or vomit. The days and weeks after area blur. I literally remember nothing. I lost my job and got a new one. I was about a month into my new job when it registered I wasn't at the old company anymore.
I developed a coping mechanism of rubbing my belly as if there was someone in there still. It brought me comfort.
I never understood how I could miss someone so much who I never met.
It also bothered me that it was that final. When my grandfather passed away, there was physical evidence. We had a wake and a funeral. There was a gun salute because he was a World War Two veteran. If I want to, I can visit his grave. But for my baby? All I have is a few ultrasound pictures.
The baby would have been due 07/25/12. I was very emotional around that time. In September 2012 I learned that I was pregnant again. I had conceived a new child in the beginning of July. All I could do was cry. I didn't want this. But on the other hand I did.
I didn't enjoy the pregnancy at all. I kept waiting for the other shoe to fall. I was a mess. I couldn't look at the ultrasounds. When he started moving, I thought it was a miscarriage. I had spotting with him and I became hysterical. No really, hysterical. Crying, screaming. I felt dizzy and faint. I was so relieved that it was nothing and he was fine. I could not sleep throughout the pregnancy. I had dreams it was going to end bad.
I have my lovely son now but I feel pain because when I look at him, I think about had the other baby and how I could never have both of them. If Bean had lived, s/he would have due at the end of July, and my son was conceived at the beginning of July. And then I wonder what Bean would have been like. And then I hate myself because I love my son so much. Its a bad cycle that never stops.
I finally decided last year that having another baby would be a good idea. My son would make an amazing big brother. In October, again this is a bad month for me apparently. I found out I was pregnant. It was hard, but I could not get excited. The pregnancy was awful. I was tired all the time. I saw colored lights all the time. I felt nauseous round the clock. I couldn't poop for weeks. My lower back felt as if there was something stuck in it. I actually indulged by looking at the ultrasound and getting excited. I had the ultrasound when I was 9 weeks pregnant. The ultrasound tech said the baby was 6 weeks. I started panicking. but my husband said its fine. When my blood work came back at 11 weeks, I was told that my hormones were consistent with the baby being six weeks. As awful as it is to say, I became emotionally detached then. I already knew where this was headed. On January 1 I didn't feel well. I went to the bathroom and there where bright red clots. I went to the ER and they said the baby had a heartbeat and the bloodwork came back confirming the baby was 6 weeks. They sent me home. I had the baby around 10 am January 2nd at home. There is no way for me to describe what that was like. I wanted to lay down and die because of my toxic uterus and my trail of dead children. But I can't stop, because of my son. Everyday for a few weeks after I would drag myself out of bed and almost mechanically provide care for my little man.
I still am not over the last miscarriage. I have fears I will see what I saw everytime I go to the bathroom. I feel a little better, but I don't know if I will ever want to be pregnant again.
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