Prior to getting pregnant the first time I thought the process was fairly simple: you thought you were pregnant, you took a pregnancy test, it read positive, and you were pregnant. A few weeks into my first pregnancy someone from my OBGYN's office called to tell me my blood work numbers didn't look like they should have. I asked "Am I pregnant?" and she said "You are not, not pregnant." What kind of answer is that? I thought. Since when was there ambiguity in pregnancy? To make matters worse, this was on a Friday before the New Year holiday so there was nothing I could do, or a doctor I could see until the following week.
About a week later I began bleeding. Bleeding is the last thing on earth you want to see when you are pregnant. Between the blood work numbers and the bleeding I knew what was happening. I was having a miscarriage. It was devastating. It felt so unfair. I felt so alone. My doctor told me that miscarriage was common, and it is, but that didn't make me feel any less of a loss.
My second pregnancy I was justifiably apprehensive about everything. I no longer had the privilege of thinking that when you get pregnant, having a baby is a guarantee. I went through the blood work process again and all seemed well. Then came the day women look forward to, the first ultrasound. I was going to get to see my baby and hear his or her heartbeat. I was very excited. The ultrasound technician didn't show me any photos, or let me hear the heartbeat, she just said that a doctor would be in with me shortly. Deep inside I felt something was wrong, but this was my first ultrasound so I tried to convince myself that this was routine. A nurse came in and said that my OBGYN's office was on the phone for me. My doctor told me that there was no heartbeat, and that I would come into her office the next day to talk about my options.
I ended up needing a D&C. I had to be put to sleep for my first time ever for the procedure. I woke up no longer pregnant. When I was wheeled outside the aid set my wheelchair next to a women sitting in a wheelchair holding her new baby. We were both waiting for our husbands to pick us up. She was leaving with a baby, and I was leaving heartbroken and sore.
Tests were run to see if there was any reason they could find why the baby hadn't survived, but nothing came back. Both pregnancies no reason was ever given for why I didn't carry to full term. That was probably the hardest part - not knowing WHY. During this same period of time I also lost my dog Sunny. It was one of the saddest time periods of my whole life.
This was hard to write, but I want women out there who have lost a pregnancy to know that they are not alone. That they have done nothing wrong. That they are allowed to hurt and to grieve.
I don't think much about those previous pregnancies now, except when I think of how very blessed we are to have Sage. I don't know WHY I had those miscarriages, but I have to accept that it was my destiny, and that Sage is the baby we've waited for all along.