In 2015 (January), my boyfriend at the time (now husband) and I found out we were expecting. We were shocked, surprised, but somewhere in there was excitement. We progressed normally and welcomed a beautifully perfect, healthy child in September 2015.
We started talking about a second child and after hours and hours of debating, discussing, crying, yelling, etc., we decided that we would be a family of 3. He would make arrangements to have things taken care of and we wouldn’t worry about an unexpected pregnancy again. I remained on the pill, religiously.
On May 22, 2017, I was 7 days late. I took a pregnancy test and instead of waiting three minutes, the second line immediately started to show. I looked at it, looked at the instructions. Clearly, this was a mistake. I couldn’t be pregnant. How could I be pregnant? I was terrified that my husband would be angry. We had decided no more children for us. And then, he was calm. He told me he was excited, that it was very unexpected, but like with our first child, we would be fine and things would be great.
We picked a name, a theme for nursery, and how we would tell everyone. My last pregnancy was perfect, why would anything go wrong? And then it all went wrong.
I went to the bathroom on May 28 and there was a little spotting. I left work and had my husband take me to the emergency room. They did an ultrasound, transvaginal, and took my hcg levels so I could keep my OB appointment in two days and they would have hcg levels to measure against. I was told it was too early to see a heartbeat on the ultrasound, as I was only about 6 and a half weeks along. I was released with directions for pelvic rest.
My OB appointment went well. My new doctor told me that the bleeding was “substantial” but he had seen worse with no issue. He sent us to the hospital to have blood work (around 11am) and said he would call us before day’s end with the results.
We waited for eight hours (picked up our daughter, told my parents why we were so late picking her up) until he called us at 9pm. He said, “well it looks like your hcg levels are about 220, which could mean a really early pregnancy.” My heart sank. I knew that my levels on Sunday were 1100 and I knew that a decrease to 220 would confirm a miscarriage. I told him we had blood work to measure the new levels against and he said, “Ok…” he looked them over as I heard silence on the other end of the phone. “Well, you’ve gone from 1100 to 220, so that’s a confirmed miscarriage.” He wasn’t unkind, just very medical about everything. He told me what my options are, and I requested a D&C. I was told to call his office in the morning to schedule this. I hung up the phone and looked at my husband who hadn’t heard the entire conversation. His eyes closed, attempting to process the news.
In one week, we went from shock, to excitement, to grief. It was the worst, single day of my life, and the beginning of the worst month of my life. June 2017 will forever be a blank month for me.