I found myself shocked on 5/22/17, seeing two pink lines appear on a pregnancy test. Then the word “pregnant” flashed across a digital. I told my closest friends, then woke up my husband, sobbing, showing him the test.
We had an 18 month old and hadn’t had plans to expand our family. I had been on the birth control pill. We took precautions.
Once the shock subsided, I began to get excited. I charted back and saw I was about 6 weeks pregnant. We found out at 5 1/2 weeks with my daughter, so it wasn’t too early for me. I bought material for the nursery, we talked names, we planned.
That was on a Monday. That Sunday, I started bleeding. I didn’t think much of it. Then it wouldn’t stop. I left work and had my husband take me to the ER. They did a transvaginal exam and an ultrasound. Took blood, knowing it was too early to send me home with answers. We were told to follow up with our doctor in a couple days to check my levels. Our daughter was with her grandparents so we could process all of this together.
On Wednesday, 5/31/17, it was the longest day. The blood was drawn, my parents were told, and we picked up our daughter. At 9pm, our doctor called, telling me my levels had dropped, which confirmed a miscarriage. Thinking back, it’s crazy how your soul can shatter and your facade can still show you as a whole person. I asked my options. I chose a D&C.
I’m fairly confident I passed the baby before the procedure, but can’t confirm. In my mind, I lost a child. In many other people’s mind, it was so early, that maybe even his heart hadn’t started beating.
It doesn’t matter. As soon as I saw that second line on the test, as terrified as I was, I was going to be a mom again.
My due date was 1/16/18, which is coming up. I have no idea how I’ll handle it. I can’t truly prepare. How can you prepare to exist on a day that your child who no longer exists was supposed to come into the world? You can’t run, you can’t hide, you can’t drink, or shop, or eat, or do anything else that you think numbs the pain. I don’t know how I’ll feel that day. Perhaps, I’ll feel peace. Perhaps I’ll feel completion. I don’t know yet. Our family is complete. We won’t try for a rainbow baby. I can’t handle that pain again, and even though we would’ve loved our lost child, we hadn’t planned for an expansion.
Whether a pregnancy was planned or not, the end of it without a baby is shocking, painful, and debilitating. I pray that I will continue to heal every day so that I can be support in case anyone else has to go through this.