I’m sitting here writing about a topic I thought I would never write about. It may sound a little naive and when I think about it now, it really is. I’m still reeling from the emotions of that experience, and there are so many feelings and thoughts going through my head right now. I hope by writing this article, I will touch someone in a positive way.
Let’s get started – At the end of July, I decided to take a pregnancy test after noticing some changes with myself. The test returned a positive result and when I saw it, my exact words were ‘L-O-L, this can’t be happening right now’. When my hubby got home a few hours later, I bombarded him right at the door; he had barely taken off his shoes. We sat and talked about it and we were super excited. We had previously discussed about this happening and decided not to prevent it from happening. I had already been told not to expect to get pregnant in the first year of trying; so we figured we could do away with the precautions.
We decided to tell our families about the pregnancy fairly soon after we found out, because we wanted them to go through that journey with us. Again, since we hoped they would all be there when we had the baby, we decided it would be okay to let them join in early as well. We had really enjoyed the experience of telling them and seeing the excitement we were bringing into the family. My heart glowed with joy owing to the support they gave us; it meant the world to us, and still does.
I had an ultrasound early on as my doctor was unsure on my due date, everything was good, and my blood levels were increasing which is what you want to see. Fast forward to the last ultrasound of my first trimester. We planned to first tell our employers that we were expecting on the following Monday, and then let everyone else know later that week. I went into the ultrasound room with the technician, but not much was being said between us. Unfortunately, the technician told me he wasn’t getting a good image of the baby and would try another ultrasound after a while. So I went back to the waiting area and waited for my name to be called again. When I went back in, a new technician tried explaining to me why the other technician failed to get a good image. From my understanding, it was like the first technician wasn’t allowed to say much to me. I told her how far along I was and she told me that she was unable to get the baby’s heartbeat, an assumption that the baby had stopped developing. I didn’t cry at that moment but I instead thanked her, went straight back into the car with my mom, and I remember I cried. I was understandably frustrated. It wasn’t exactly the final conclusion from my doctor so I held a little bit of hope as I waited for the results later that day. I went for lunch with my Mom and we talked as much as we could about other topics, but I kept bringing up the ultrasound experience; I was just ready for the bad news. I got a call later in the afternoon directly from my doctor explaining what the technician had told me earlier. I really thanked him for calling and not leaving my mind in limbo over the weekend.
The doctor explained that I hadn’t miscarried naturally yet and as such I had three options. He discussed each option with me and told me the pros and cons for each. The doctor asked me about my thoughts and decision, and I decided to take some heavy medication that would, unfortunately, basically push the miscarriage along. I took those pills and camped out for the weekend and a further few days. The pain was – and still is – a constant reminder of the mental trauma I went through. As I sit here writing this from my kitchen, waiting to leave for work, and still thinking about it; there is one person I am so grateful for – Shane. I love you and all the strength you give me. Life might not always be the exact way we picture it; it may go in a completely different direction. I am looking at this way: that maybe life is giving Shane and I more time to spend together before a baby comes our way. Does this mean we are giving up? No. Does this mean I will be pregnant this coming week? Not likely. I didn’t understand what a miscarriage was before. I mean, how could I really comprehend how a woman feels, wanting something so bad, and taking the best care for themselves for this to happen? For those of you who have gone through a similar situation once, or more than once maybe, my heart reaches out to you girl – be strong, you got this!
This weekend, I put the blame on myself: I painted our pantry door a few weeks ago (with a mask). I had A LOT of ice cream. I let Bella step on me. Was it really me? Did I take more than 200mg of Caffeine? I’m trying to convince myself constantly that it wasn’t my fault. It’s what life has planned, to make me stronger and educate me, so I can be a source of support and strength for others.
My heart may be broken now more than I thought it would be, but I’m okay with it because I know I will be fine in the long run.
The texts from our family, My sister – who flew out to spend those couch days with me, the flowers, the meals for me to feed Shane, and the support from my work, mean the world to us. We couldn’t do life without our families, and I will forever remain grateful for their love and courage. For those who have already reached out and told me their story, a big Thank you. It is okay to cry, it is okay to be sad. It makes us stronger.
(Photo Taken By: Umbrella Tree Photography)