Here is my story, chapter one.
I always thought I’d have problems getting pregnant. So I wasn’t surprised when my period appeared each month for five months of trying. And when I say trying, I mean TRYING. Here’s my deal. I do nothing impulsively. I let things float around in my head for awhile, decide if it is something I actually want and then come up with ideas on how to do it. A lot of times, they never get past the floating stage as the pros and cons volley back and forth. But for this whole pregnancy thing, the big con is my age. It trumped everything else, so we got right to it.
For me, that meant educating myself on my cycle, taking my temp each morning, monitoring cervical fluid, analyzing charts, POASing (pee on a stick–ovulation prediction kits in this case), propping a pillow under my bum, you name it! Obsession on! For Nate, that meant being my stud on demand. And giving me his best I’m-listening-and-I-care-look as I rambled on about TTC–LPs, DPOs, CDs, etc. Also on demand.
So as I awaited my AF (aka period), I found myself waking up in the middle of the night to pee and a little late. Little did I know that is what my body starts doing right away when I’m pregnant. So on October 10, 2007, at approximately 2:30 AM, I peed on the nearest stick and didn’t sleep a wink after finding out I was pregnant. PREGNANT. What I thought was impossible, was possible after all.
I walked around in a happy bubble. My boobs exploded and felt like they were in a vice. I ate with abandon, gave up the booze and dreamt of what life would be like, fears and all. I didn’t know any better about the spotting. The doctor said maybe my cervix was irritated from exercising and not to worry. That was the last time the sign of blood didn’t send me into a tailspin.
On October 16, I started bleeding heavier. And cramping. I still held out to hope that there was an explanation besides the obvious one. It wasn’t just the baby I lost that day. To say I lost my innocence and hopefulness doesn’t begin to explain the depths of what’s missing. I lost faith in my body. I lost the ability to go to the bathroom without thorough inspection of the toilet paper. I lost the ability to be happy for pregnant women, the desire to hold a baby that isn’t my own, to go to Target without opening myself up to tears, to believe that I’ll have one someday.
I lost my baby. And it was only the beginning….