Saying goodbye

Last Friday, I had a D&C.  I would have been 9w3d pregnant.

The past month has been a whirlwind.  It's unbelievable to me that it was really only a few weeks ago that I took those pregnancy tests and this whole thing began.  If you'd told me we'd get pregnant within 6 weeks of going off the pill, I would have laughed.  If you'd told me that my first pregnancy wouldn't be viable, I would have called you a liar.  However, that is the truth of the situation and having gone through what I have now, I'll never quite look at myself in the same way again.  

When I went to see my doctor last Friday,  I was ready to have him perform the D&C to remove all traces of the tiny being inside me - the little embryo that never developed a heartbeat and was never destined to join us in the world.  My body obviously still hadn't caught up to the fact that "peanut" wasn't alive, and I was ready to move on and find closure.  I have been strangely calm over the last couple of weeks but sitting in my doctor's office while the nurse was scheduling my procedure with the hospital, and a miriad of hugely pregnant ladies wandered in and out of the waiting room, the bubble burst.  I just cried out everything that had been held up inside me.

My husband just started a new job, so for the first time during this whole process, he wasn't by my side.  I called my mother-in-law to take me to the hospital that afternoon, feeling at least optimistic that all the waiting would finally be over.  This would be my first time admitted to a hospital, in surgery, and under anesthesia.  They prepped me to be in the operating room, put in the IV, and I went from talking about Harry Potter with the nurses in the OR to waking up in recovery.  It seemed almost like I'd just woken up from a nap, but all I felt was a sense of relief that it was over.  I wanted my husband desperately and, fortunately, he'd made it to the hospital while I was in recovery, so was waiting for me in the patient rooms upstairs.

I'm so grateful that every single nurse that attended to me at the hospital was simply wonderful.  I've never had a group of complete strangers provide me with such a sense of comfort and security in my most difficult time.  I had decided when picking my OB that this was the hospital I wanted to deliver at, incidentally being the very same hospital where my husband was born.  After my experience there, I know for sure that when the time comes, it is the right place.  The nurses were all so sweet, saying how they hoped they'd see me again but in the delivery rooms next time around.  I hope they're right.  I also can't say enough about my OB.  I have only known him for a few weeks, but I trust him implicitly to provide the best care possible for me, and my future family.

By the end of the weekend, the spotting had stopped and I was back to feeling pretty normal - until last night.  I probably over-exerted myself a little bit, and next thing I know I'm dealing with horrendous cramping and I woke up in the middle of the night to bleeding.  I guess this is pretty normal in the first couple of weeks after a D&C, but it feels like a kick in the teeth.  It's a reminder that my desire for closure isn't quite fulfilled.  I'm trying to think of this in terms of my body needing to cleanse itself in order to reset, to provide a fresh start.  However, it's really just another reminder of what we've lost, and that's just so hard.

I know that what I'm going through is sadly so common.  I know that there's nothing I did, or didn't do, to cause this.  I know that there are millions of women in the world that have also gone through this, including my own mother.  I know that with time my body and mind will heal, and we'll start over.  I know that I have the strength to make it through this - the hardest thing I've ever had to endure.

Dear Peanut

It's amazing what a difference a few short weeks can make.
You were only inside me for a short time, but you'll always be a 

part of me.   I don't know how to explain the sadness that you
weren't able to stick around and, although I understand that there 

was good reason that you couldn't stay, it doesn't make it any 

easier to say goodbye.

You've changed me as a person.  I'll never be the same as I was 

before you.  You were everything to your daddy and 

me - you showed us a future that just seemed like a distant 

dream before you were in our lives.  

You may be gone, but you'll never be forgotten.  

I will carry you in my heart always.

~Mama~

Waiting to exhale

There's been a lot I've wanted to post over the last week, but admittedly it's been hard to find the words.  Finally, I think I'm ready to explain this rollercoaster ride we've been on.

Two Fridays ago, we had our highly anticipated first OB appointment.  Naturally, we were nervous but so excited to finally catch a glimpse of the tiny being growing inside of me.  The doctor appointment was going well, everything appearing normal.  I couldn't help but laugh at my husband's face while the nurse was essentially putting lube and a condom on the "wand" for the transvaginal ultrasound.  In fact, when the doctor asked him to come stand by me so we could both see the ultrasound clearly, we were still giggling like little kids.  After a few seconds, we saw a little blob and I think my heart must have skipped a beat seeing that tiny little fuzzy patch on the monitor...and then our world came crashing down around us.  Our doc became very quiet and gently said that he was concerned that he couldn't see a heart beat.  He checked a little more and took some measurements.  At 7 weeks 3 days along, I was only showing at 6.5 weeks.  With not being able to see the flutter of the heart, he said that he wanted to send me for blood tests to check my hormone levels and try to figure out what's going on. 

The following Monday, I dropped by a lab to have my blood drawn again.  I was called in and right before she stabbed with the needle, the nurse happily announced that she was "feeling jittery" and had probably had too much coffee.  Sure enough, it was probably the bloodiest blood draw I've had in a while and resulted in a nice red bruise, ironically about the same size as the little peanut in my uterus.  I figured the pain is worth it to know that my baby is doing well.  Turns out that the blood test results were actually very normal.  The hCg hormone was still rising (up to 93K over the weekend) and my progesterone levels were on the low end of normal, but not conclusive.  My OB noted that from this point, it could go both ways and he was cautiously optimistic for the success of the pregnancy.  I took this to be hopeful, but I'd already been preparing for the worst for several days at this point.  I had words with peanut, asking it to hang in there.  I was hopeful that that extreme nausea and tiredness wasn't a result of anxiety, but a sign from the little one that it was doing ok. 

Last Friday, we went in for a secondary ultrasound with a substitute OB while mine is out of town.  He was happy that my cervix was still closed with no bleeding or cramping.  Once again, hooked up to the ultrasound machine, but no giggling this time around.  We could see a large gestational sac, but no yolk sac or fetal pole, and still no heartbeat.  At 8w3d, it sank in that we'd lost this baby. 

So, here I am, waiting to miscarry.  I'm waiting to see if my body figures out what's going on in the next few days, but have an appointment with my regular OB later this week to consider the option of a D&C to remove the tissue from my uterus.  It's strange to think of it in such clinical terms.  A part of me is wondering why I'm not more of a mess.  In fact, there are a few family members who seem to be having a harder time with this situation than me (or my husband).  We almost feel guilty that we're so calm - but I look at this as something that happened with good reason.  My body knows what's best and if it knew that this wasn't going to be a healthy pregnancy, better that we have to deal with this now than bigger complications later on.  As much as it hurts, I know which I prefer.  We will have opportunity to try again - we weren't expecting to fall pregnant within 6 weeks anyway and we're fortunate to know that we even have that option. 

At this point, there is nothing to do but wait.  I've always heard that it's not possible to be "kind of pregnant", although I'm feeling somewhat inclined to disagree.  I'm pregnant, but not, and it's a weird limbo to be in. 

So cute!

Weekend before last, husband and I took a trip to visit my brother and husband's parents.  My brother works at a fancy schmanzy restaurant in Vegas, which works out well for me because I get to seriously overeat on some of the most decadent fine-dining....for free.  I was just thankful that I haven't suffered from any food aversions as yet, because I was happy to scarf down all the food that was put in front of me. 

Eating out at my brother's restaurant is really one of those psuedo-celebrity experiences.  All the staff come to by introduce themselves, and take extra care to make sure that you're satisfied with your meal.  After all, I'm the sister of one of the boss men, therefore they don't want to risk messing something up.  This time around though, he'd informed several members of his staff that I'm expecting and as if I didn't already feel spoiled, this made it even worse!  There were various rounds of congratulations from various different servers, and managers, and then to top it off, my dessert arrived.

First, my hormones got the better of me and I started to tear up at just how freakin' cute my little brother can be.  Then, after the server had retreated from the table, I immediately stuck my spoon in it, before remembering "oh crap, I need to take a picture".  [I guess part of the moral here being to not get between a pregnant woman and her creme brulee.]

My brother meanwhile shrugged and said "what can I say? I'm a proud uncle."