A goal I had for 2021 was to start writing more, not about the only negative, emotionally tolling things. However, 2020 had one more emotional roller coaster to take me on before the calendar turned over. I have been writing small blips of emotions over the past few weeks; because of that, the writing tense does change.
12/14 • I was really not feeling myself. I was fatigued, nauseous, and food didn’t taste right. It could have been a lot of things; maybe it was the long hours at work? Or the emotional toll living in a world full of covid has taken? What about being a new mom living in the cold tundra that is the Midwest? Hell, maybe it was even covid itself. All thoughts that passed through my head. I was about to start a 9 out of the next 11-day work stretch, so to be safe, I figured I should get covid tested…. spoiler alert, I was negative. Well, shit, if it’s not covid now, what?
12/18 • A few more days have gone by, and I still am not feeling well. My symptoms have gotten worse. Super nausea to the point of throwing up every 5 am in the bathroom at work, sleeping every moment I can. And now bloating.. lots and lots of bloating. Like most girls, I figured I’d take a pregnancy test to rule that out, I know it will be negative but just another box checked.
12/19 • Woke up early Saturday morning before Shaine and Maize. I had one random dipstick pregnancy test left from our fertility days. I peed in a little plastic cup, dipped the stick in it, and jumped in the shower. I wasn’t worried about checking it because it would be negative; they always are…
Holy shit, there are actually two lines. There’s no way there are two lines. The test is obviously expired, broken, defective. Shaine was sleeping on bedcouch because, obviously, it is our yearly tradition. I go wake him up and ask him to go to Meijer. He reluctantly asked why, and when I say it’s for a pregnancy test. His eyes shoot open, and he responds with “why.” I explained that the one I just took is positive, but I don’t believe it. An hour and a new test later, the first drop of urine, clear as day, two very bold undeniable lines staring back at me. HOLY SHIT, this is not a drill; your girl is actually pregnant, naturally at that. After all, we had been through to get Maize, we wanted to leave it up to fate. If it happens, it happens type of thing. With me still nursing, I didn’t know if it would even happen, but you know what they say, once your body has done it once, it’s just like riding a bike.
Shaine was instantly excited. He was the calm one. Reassuring me that everything will be fine, we will make it work. Myself, I was straight-up terrified. Maize is not even ten months, and I’m assuming they will probably be roughly 18 months part; two under two. The age gap that everyone fears and struggles with. I am afraid for Maize, she is the absolute light of our lives, and I feel terrible her first year of life has been all covid. She has not gotten to experience all the things I had planned for her and us. Most of her seeing family and friends has been through a screen. Public outings have been almost nonexistent. And now, she is going to have to share her attention with a sibling. I know every parent that goes from one to two can’t grasp the possibility of loving another little one just as much until the time comes, but that doesn’t change my fear. How can I love the second just as much? She’s my little companion, my best friend, our dream come true. Emotion after emotion continuously runs through my head; excited, thankful, scared, nervous, guilt. Guilt that I have these feelings of not instant joy and fear because I of all people, know any baby is a blessing.
12/21 • Second HCG blood draw. First was 506, meaning I was just barely pregnant, but pregnant no less. This one was 923. Higher but not exactly double. Due to my history of multiple losses, the plan is to follow the HCG every 2-4 days and get an ultrasound after Christmas
12/26 • Christmas celebration with the families. First Christmas party of the year; throwing up in the bathroom inconspicuously, while everyone else eats; amazing. This go around, I have been much sicker than I was with Maize. Actually throwing up, no food taste right, and crazy fatigue. However, all are welcomed signs because I know that means the little one is still growing. Christmas party number two with Shaine’s family. We wrap up a cute little picture of Maize and give it to Shaine’s mom. She along, with everyone else, is shocked but so excited!
Party number three with my immediate family, we do the same thing for my mom, only she doesn’t get it. She sees the cute picture of Maize and doesn’t read the letterboard. After some encouragement to actually read the board once again, there were hugs, tears, and so much joy.
12/28 • Ultrasound day! Today we get to see how far along I am and check on the little one. Shaine can’t go, but we are both ok with that; he’ll be able to go to the next one. The ultrasound showed very little; a sac and a fetal pole. No heart rate yet, but at least it showed the pregnancy was in my uterus. That’s more than I could say for number two. My estimated due date is 08/23/21, exactly 18 months to the day of Maize’s birth. I was ecstatic.
I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to get blood work, but I figured it couldn’t hurt since it was right next door over. Oh, how I was wrong…
As I said, the ultrasound was very reassuring, the lab work, however, was not. My level went from 905 to 2569 in 6 days. HCG is supposed to double every 48 hours, which means mine should have been upwards of 6000-7200, and it was only 2569. Strike number one against me.
12/30 • More bloodwork, more bad news. We (my doctor and I) wanted to squeeze in one last blood draw before everything closed for the holiday. This morning after work, I went and had it draw. It was going to go up; I know it. With every passing day, I feel more and more pregnant. Nausea, vomiting, fatigue. My milk has also taken a nose dive to barely anything. All “good signs” of an increase!
Results came back at 3650. Yay, they went up, but still have not doubled, still well below what we were expecting. A few hours later, I got a call from my doctor, who explained what I already knew. She said my labs were not looking reassuring, but it’s too early to declare viability. She gave me a choice to continue to get lab work and then do an ultrasound in 2 weeks from my previous one or wait for the ultrasound. Being in medicine, I like numbers; I like factual evidence, the more information, the better, in my opinion. I prepared myself for another loss but tried to have a moment of positivity as well
1/5 • The new year came and went. I toasted with sparkling grape juice at midnight in hopes the research was wrong. I would be a rare case with low non-doubling HCG that ended in a perfectly healthy baby. I walked into the lab shaking, so much so the girl drawing my lab work asked me if I was nervous. I replied, “no, only nervous about the results.” 6 hours later, I received a call from the office. I knew right then it wasn’t a good sign. All my other results came through my mychart app. My value went up again but this time only to 5000. At this point, my technical due date places me at 7 weeks. Typically based on my first HCG, my level should be in the 20,000 range, if not higher. After a long hard conversation, I requested that we stop drawing lab work, and we wait for the ultrasound on the 11th. That will be my 8-week mark, two weeks from my previous ultrasound, and plenty of time for a heartbeat to be seen. Until then, I explained that I just wanted to live in my bubble and enjoy being pregnant, even if it was only for another week.
1/11 • If today weren’t going to be hard enough, the powers that be thought would be “fun” to sit through a mandatory four-hour class for nurse residency all about death, dying, grief, and how to handle that when working with infants and children. I was irritated the entire class. Not only did this mandatory class make me reschedule the critical ultrasound until later in the day, but the fact that I have already worked at the very same children’s hospital for six years, I have plenty of professional and sadly personal experience with death and dying in children.
Anyways – After a long class, I had two hours to kill. Chick-fil-a and a peaceful drive through the country helped do that. I got to the appointment half an hour early because I was just ready to get on with it. I needed some answers. — The woman calls me back. She can tell I’m nervous from my lack of any words coming from my mouth. I explain to her I’m a pro at these kinds of ultrasounds, and I know you aren’t supposed to tell me anything, but I need you to let me see it. I need it for my mental health. She wholeheartedly agrees, and we begin. The minute she started the ultrasound, you could see the sac, but that was it. The ultrasound looked identical to what I saw two weeks before. After scanning a bit more, we did find the pole, but that’s all; it was only a pole. No heartbeat, no movement. At that moment, my heart stopped, only a brief second but long enough. She didn’t even need to say the words; my heart knew what she was going to say.
I got in my car and drove home. It’s a familiar drive because I do it almost daily. However, this time, it was all a blur. Everyone and everything seemed to be racing by me. No one had any idea that my world had just been rocked for the third time. I got home, called Shaine, and that’s when the tears began to fall, but not for long because I had to be up and ready for work in three hours. Why did I go to work, you ask? Because I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t currently miscarrying. I wasn’t in any physical pain. I truly needed the distraction. Right before work, I got a call from my doctor to go over the options. I could wait it out and see how long it took for my body to realize it was not a viable pregnancy and miscarry itself. I could take medicine to make my uterus dilate and jumpstart the process. Or I could go in and have a surgery known as a D&C. It was that night at work I decided to go in this week and have the D&C. My body wasn’t showing any signs of miscarrying, and the longer I waited, the higher the rate of the infection I would face.
1/13 • Procedure day; I woke up today, ready. Sad but ready. I got to spend some one on one time with Maize. I watched her little brain work as she slowly discovers this big beautiful world around her. I cuddled her until she fell asleep on my chest. It was the perfect morning together. My dad came and picked her up to stay at their house for the night because we were not sure how long the surgery would take. Saying goodbye to her was hard. This would be my first time going under anesthesia since having her, and that scared me. I was not ready to have something rare happened and not be around for her. And as predicted, nothing did. The surgery went off without any hiccups. It was smooth and easy and relatively pain-free. I was home eight hours later, in bed and asleep.
Now the next day, that was a different story. About midway through the day, I started having heart palpitations and difficulty breathing. Walking from my kitchen to my bedroom was a task, a very, very hard task. After about two hours of my heart rate, not decreasing, I knew I had to go back. Thankfully many tests were run, and everything came back ok. They assumed it was the anesthesia staying in my system longer than expected, and my body not processing it well.
All and all, I am happy with my decision. I got the closure I needed. We, as a family, can move on and look forward instead of constantly wondering. I’m thankful to have felt the overwhelming joy we had for the first two weeks before my history reared its ugly head. That joy is something I will never forget. This was the first pregnancy (after the first 24 hours of shock) that was pure joy, no anxiousness, no fear, just joy and love that our family was going to be complete. I know next time, if there is a next time that joy won’t be the same, it will be overpowered with anxiousness, fear of losing yet another baby. But what I choose to hold onto right now is what truly matters. I’m healthy, my family is healthy, we have an amazing support system, and we are here to maybe, someday try one more time.
As we all know, there are never any words that can be said to ease this pain however, one person might have just found the words I needed to hear:
“Just because you are thankful you have Maize does not mean you are not allowed to feel sad for this loss. This was still your baby, a baby you loved, a baby you and Shaine created. Allow yourself time to process that. Hug Maize tight but still allow yourself to feel these feelings. You deserve to grieve just as much as any time before.”
I have been trying to diminish my pain because I am one of the lucky ones. I have a child. Yes, I have lost many, but I still have a child on this earth that I can hold, squeeze, and love on. But you know what? She’s right. Before I had Maize, I would hear of people losing a baby after already having their first. And being selfish, trapped in my own world of infertility, I didn’t understand how those feelings of devastation could be just as overwhelming as mine? A woman with no child. I have learned two things: One, I was a self-centered asshole. And two, I was wrong, OH so wrong. Yes, I am fortunate to have Maize to love and squeeze when I feel that overwhelming ache in my heart, but that does not mean it shouldn’t hurt. It’s a different hurt, a pain of all the things I now know I will miss out on. The pain of missing out on holding and cuddling a fresh new baby all day, every day. The first smile, the first babble. Missing out on Maize having a built-in best friend, playmate. Who even when they fight, because oh they would have, would still be there for her through it all because he or she would have been the only other person to know how it felt to have Shaine and me as parents. I’m not going to say that will never happen, but for now, I am permitting myself to grieve those thoughts.
Typically this space is just about my feelings; I feel this. This happened to me. But this loss happened to more than just me, Shaine. He has been my absolute rock through everything. From the guilt in the beginning to holding my hand and drying my tears as they wheeled me back. I have to deal with the emotional and physical side effects of a loss, but he has to deal with my fear and side effects. Pregnancy number one: abruption and a hemorrhage that only was stopped by transfusing me. Number two, receiving a call that I was in the ER and might need emergency surgery. Number three, while it was rather uneventful looking back, he was on constant alert that it could change at any time. And now this one, yet another procedure. He will never talk about his feelings, but I feel for him. He was so excited about this baby. Maize is at such a fun age, and he can see the potential of having two of them running around; the giggling, the adventures, and, let’s be serious, the hope for a boy. This isn’t our reality, but I still want to take a moment to appreciate him and his feelings he’ll never share.
What is the point of all this post? I truly don’t know. Every post, I typically can tie it together and make it have a point, a reason, a purpose. This one, though, I don’t. The point very well may be to have another entry in my virtual diary that I bring you all along on. The point may be a bookmark that I can look back on and remember these feelings in my past. All my pregnancies and blog post have been different. The first time I was shocked and scared. We were young alone. I have an entry for that—the second time, the excruciating pain, emergency surgery, and the devastation that followed. The event the blog was born from. The third time, lucky number three, was a time of success and science. Still my most read post to date. And then this time, number four brought tears, stress, anxiousness, hopefulness, and love. I sincerely hope I don’t continue to be the girl that only writes about pregnancy and loss. I want to celebrate all things; however, continuing to share my ups and downs has allowed so many other women’s comfort to share their stories with me. It has provided a safe space for them to know they aren’t alone. Life is about celebrating good times, but there must be some bad. The bad is our reminded just how sweet the good truly is.
1/19 • I thought it was finished. The post was done. I said everything I wanted to say. I got all the emotions out, but like any good infomercial, my feelings said, “but wait, there’s more”… I have been wracking my brain to figure how, when, or if I even want to post this and at this very moment at 9 p.m. I’m still unsure. I still have so many feelings I; myself am trying to work through. Do I post this on Maize’s birthday as we had initially planned on announcing? Do I just throw my arms up and say fuck it and hit the post right now? Or do I wait a few more days and let more of my emotions come to the surface? What about Wednesday when I can’t hide in my bubble anymore, and I have to go back to work where they’ll be questions? As I said above, this time is different. The grieving period is different. Some days are harder than others. I’ve been fine, wonderful for the past few days. Even the day I was in the hospital for surgery. Every doctor, nurse, medical professional I came into contact with gave me their regards. And when I said thank you, I’m okay, I truly meant it. Yes, I’ve had some physical things to work through, but mentally I’ve been great… until today. Until this very moment.
It’s 9 pm; Maize is fast asleep in her crib, Shaine is in the garage working on our new business venture. I am lying in my bed, utterly exhausted, ready to open my book and drift asleep. But all of a sudden, a rush of emotions hits me—Tears stream down my face, my heartaches. Today was a day. Maize is teething, and while she is still my ever so happy baby, she was very clingy today. She wanted to play all day but wanted mommy right there at all times, which made my mind race. She might only ever have mommy and daddy to play with. She might be our only baby because my body has once again failed me, failed Shaine, failed our family. Now I know being an only child isn’t the worse thing in the world, it might honestly be great, but it doesn’t change the fact I’m still emotionally fragile.
It’s so freakin dumb because I’m always torn on how to feel about my body. On the one hand, I appreciate my body for giving me Maize, but on the other, I’m so frustrated in the fact that it’s not currently caring for her little brother or sister. I am trying to remember that I’m here, healthy, and able to be her forever playmate, but still absolutely angry at the outcome. This whole thing is precisely as the title of this post confirms. It’s one big emotional roller coaster that I’m still on. And to be honest, it might be one of the longer rides of my life.
(Ps. If you’ve made it this far, bravo; this was a long one)
I am so sorry for your loss. I cant even imagine your heart break. Gods plan is greater than ours. We don’t understand his ways but need to trust him in all things. Love you girl and enjoy every passing moment with your little girl. God is good all the time. I will pray for his peace
and comfort to be with you
Please don’t think if it as you/body have failed. It sucks I truly get it. You’re a great mom, wife, friend etc. I can’t wait to hear about the business venture. Hugs to you and Shaine.