I’ve been dreading today for awhile now. It has been a year since my second loss, the one I haven’t been able to bring myself to write about. It wasn’t my longest pregnancy, but I guess it was when I still lived in a place of hope and could relate to people in my life.
So here’s the story. After our first miscarriage, which was around 6 weeks, we were sad and shocked. There were people that whispered, “I had one too” as they held their babies. And we thought “wow, at least we know we can get pregnant, so let’s try again right away!” At the time, trying right away seemed like a good idea and gave me something to focus on and control. (Ha! You’d think I’d given up on that control thing a long time ago!) And trying right again worked. I went right into another pregnancy without a break. I felt tired and bloated. My boobs were huge. And I thought I had paid my dues and, although I was gripped by anxiety at every trip to the bathroom, I thought this one would work just like all the people I knew.
I had some spotting at 7 weeks. My clinic got me in right away. There was a heart beat, although they couldn’t get a read on the rate. They said the growth was a little behind, but that was normal and they’d see me at 12 weeks. I didn’t know any better, so I believed them. Now I’d insist on a follow up ultrasound.
Around 9-10 weeks, I started feeling better. I wondered if something was wrong, but everyone says you are supposed to start feeling better as you get close to the second tri. I was never pukey, which was surprising…I’m a puker. But my biological mom told me she never was with her 4 pregnancies either.
Then, at 11 weeks, I started bleeding. Like a period. It is all kinda a blur now–I was at work, v upset, calling my doc. They got me in for an u/s right away and there was no heart beat and lots of blood. Although the u/s tech wouldn’t tell us it was over, I knew it was. As we walked out of the hospital, I felt something coming out of me with some cramping. And that was it. And then I knew this was more than a fluke–there was something else going on with me. With us.
The testing started. I talked to a counselor. I took over a week off of work. I had three more miscarriages in 2008.
Baby, I still miss you. I miss me too. I miss having hope. I miss looking forward to things, making plans. I miss all the people I care about. I suppose I’ve pushed them away some, but my family and friends don’t understand or know what to say. So they don’t say anything. Or they tell you they are getting a grandmother’s ring for Christmas (my mom) or write only about their grandchildren in their Christmas letter (my parents.) Or they tell me about their pregnancies (those who don’t know about ours) or they let the grapevine take care of it (those who do know.)
There are a few exceptions and I’m very grateful for them. And I’ve met wonderful women who have been there and understand. What would I do without you?
So here it is, another year later. I think today I’ll make my favorite chili, get some endorphins going at the gym, take the dog for a nice long walk. It isn’t the day I was supposed to have, but maybe it will be ok.