I have been really struggling with this a lot. Why is it our reality to suffer so. much. loss? How is this our life? When we met as 18 year-olds on our first day of college, we certainly never would have guessed we’d have seven pregnancies over the course of eight years. And that only two of them would end happily.
The first pregnancy resulted in a very early loss and its effect was far-reaching. Never again would we be able to see two lines on a test and assume that we would walk away with a living baby in nine months. Pregnancy would never be a blissful, carefree time of nothing but joy and excitement. But at least the loss was very early. We would be able to quickly pass that milestone with future pregnancies.
But the losses keep happening later and later. The second one was at 7 weeks. The third not detected until the 8 week appointment that I had somehow patiently waited for. That loss stole another piece of my sanity. Now I couldn’t assume that no bleeding equaled a healthy baby. That was the first missed miscarriage. My body took five weeks to finally realize the baby was not living and begin to miscarry.
Loss four was a whole new kind of terrible. I found out I was unexpectedly expecting. I thought that was great. I didn’t have to stress about trying to get pregnant. Or about making the decision to risk another loss. The decision was made for us. Certainly this pregnancy was meant to be. Or not. Just a week (or was it less) after seeing the positive test, I started spotting. HCG levels were not increasing as desired and it was assumed I was having another miscarriage. But it was far worse than that! Our family left on a long-planned vacation in Florida while I was just about six weeks pregnant. I was pretty much expecting to miscarry on this trip but also a tiny bit hopeful that all would turn out. After just a few days away, though, I was in terrible pain. The first hospital ran tests and performed an ultrasound. The HCG was still climbing, although slowly. And they coudn’t find the baby in my uterus, or anywhere for that matter. They sent me away and told me to schedule a follow-up appointment with the on-call doctor for two days later. Well, by the time of that appointment, I was awaiting surgery in a second hospital. They had confirmed my worst fear: I had an ectopic pregnancy and by this time my tube had ruptured. I had my right tube removed at a hospital while on vacation.
So that left me with a whole new set of worries. Now, I would have to wonder if I would GET pregnant with just one tube. And if I did get pregnant, I would have to worry WHERE the baby implanted. And if the baby implanted in the right spot, I would have to worry about whether I would STAY pregnant.
With Olivia, I once again had thoughts of “this is meant to be.” We had easily conceived her. An early ultrasound showed she was in the right place, and we had made it past the first trimester. Then the shit hit the fan--again. This time was far worse emotionally than ever before. This wasn’t just a baby we were losing, she was our daughter. Now, I’m left with a feeling that I will never feel “safe” at any point during a future pregnancy. I feel like we’ve been robbed of almost all hope.
Why do these losses keep happening? Why do they happen later and later? Why has my body stopped recognizing the loss right away? Why us???? Why are we the couple who loses our babies far more than we don’t?
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