so, it is pretty clear. my obstetrical history closely resembles a train wreck.
like most women who travel the reproductive journey, i too had a destination in mind and my journey very clearly ended with a baby in my arms. the kind that kicks and screams, eats and poops, and grows up before my very eyes. for the most part this has all come to be true, but this train was not express, on time, or even the same train that originally left the station. when i set out to have my first baby i was a mere child myself; in years, and, uh, everything. i was pregnant at 22. it was an ignorant bliss. it was miraculous...in more ways then i ever could have imagined.
being a mom suited me pretty well and in time we planned to grow our family bigger, so i punched another ticket. the route seemed ordinary until the breaks were abruptly engaged. similar to what you would imagine - there was a high pitched squeal at the very moment my heart was broken. the sonographer doing the 12-week scan left the room and came back with a doctor who gave me the news; there was no heartbeat. i chalked it up to a 1-in-4 chance as my midwife suggested. then i waited the recommended time and tried again. another uneventful, full-term pregnancy with a take home baby. i loved being pregnant and it was as if i was designed for it; i even thought to myself that i would make a great surrogate.
it wasn’t long before we decided to go for another ride. thoughts of miscarriage were washed away by my recent successful pregnancy, so when i started bleeding at 6 weeks i was shocked. not shattered, because it could be explained away, as a blighted ovum, and we would try again as soon as we were given the ok. again, i got pregnant right away, and although i was confident i practiced caution. the next pregnancy ended at 13 weeks. although i had 3 miscarriages they were not consecutive so no testing was warranted. it was after losing the next pregnancy at 10 weeks i jumped on the medical track.
my dx: healthy young women.
obviously that doesn’t mean a dang thing about staying pregnant. it just suggests that i had healthy miscarriages.
my logic was if there is no reason not to try again, then we can still climb aboard. i will admit that i was beginning to feel the wear and packed a certain amount of reserve. but alas, i made it through the 1st trimester danger zone and was cruising along just fine. my belly grew, i could feel my babe squirming around, i relaxed.
even now i am convinced that i knew the exact moment my baby died. his movement was more of a jolt than a fluid swoosh. i had been making dinner and it startled me. then i made my biggest mistake, i asked my husband what he thought. of course he would say things were fine, but my heart knew, and so began the derailment.
sadly i will always remember jack as being born one one day shy of a birth/death certificate. 19weeks 6 days got me a room in L&D and an induction, but didn’t qualify me for a memory box. for a long time the pictures of him sat ominously in the envelope that was handed to me at the one hour photo. that was possibly the most fearful hour of my life as i was certain they were going to screw up the only thing i had left of him besides his ashes and the blanket i wrapped him in.
following the loss of jack i agreed to more medical testing. specialist after specialist told me i was normal and that it was just bad luck. no longer did i fall under the care of the midwives, i had graduated to the regular practice with several doctors on staff. at my 6w follow-up the doctor told me that he would pretty much guarantee that the next time things would work out and i would go home with a baby. i got pregnant soon after, but i was incredibly unstable - hormonally, emotionally, mentally and every other way possible. i couldn’t figure out how to settle my nerves for any length of time. i resorted to asking anyone and everyone if i was ok; my husband, my doctors, my friends, my family. every single one of them promised me i was. when this pregnancy derailed at 16+weeks i may have been able to pick up the pieces but life was in progress and before my hormones could return to normal the rest of my life unraveled. this took many forms, the worst being the loss of my adored grandfather, an extremely sick daughter, a failing marriage, a dying cousin, estranged friends and family, accompanied by a broken down jalopy and bills i couldn’t pay. my wheels fell off. i was overwhelmed beyond my ability to cope. i stopped showing up. i did the bare minimum. i fed my kids took them to school and put them to bed.
there wasn’t much left of me that i could recognize nor was there a desire to pick up the pieces...at first.
then, slowly and steadily, i recreated joy in my life, for my kids, then for myself. we decided enough was enough and with a measured pace i retraced my steps back to family and friends and happily, my marriage. i grieved, long and hard, and i healed.
right before my grandfather died i asked him if he was afraid, he said to me “i would be if i had regrets”. over a year later my husband and i started to look forward. we agreed that we would still be more than happy to welcome another child into our family, if it was meant to be. but there would have to be ground rules, and therapy. lots of it. we were choosing to live without regret. this time we left the station packing nothing more than hope. however, at 10 weeks there was no longer a heartbeat. although we were sad we were ok. to be safe we watched and waited and went on with our life, embracing what we had.
a year and a half down that road, we re-tabled the discussion. at this point we were well practiced in not having unrealistic expectations but had for the most part been consumed by every test, twinge and thought, so the agreement was if we were to try again i would have to work on remaining c-a-l-m. aside from accepting that there were no guarantees, i approached every moment with surrender. i learned a lot about myself. i definitely would have preferred a baby but i was greatly improving my ability to be emotionally still, and again at the 12 week scan i learned that there was no longer a heartbeat.
strongly centered back in my life, gratefully raising my two resilient children, i found myself for the first time willing to accept what i had, and determined that i could grow into the feeling of it being enough. for another year and a half i did. from time to time we tossed the idea around but never followed it with action. we even discussed it with our kids who were now old enough to join in the dialogue with us. my son so wisely told me that i could keep wondering or i could just try and see. smartie. that same month, without consciously trying we were pregnant, and i was not too happy about it, i was tired of putting my life on hold, tired of doctors, tired of empiric treatments. tired of the endless bad luck. yet i had no choice but to strap on the cape and take that leap of faith.
uneventful, full-term pregnancy with a healthy take-home baby!
when you work so hard at something and then accomplish it, everything that is painful or hard is erased. a shadow of the work that was done can still be seen if you squint your eyes, but it is faint.
with such a big gap in age between our kids we considered one more (and truth be told we half thought our luck changed for good). uh, it doesn’t work that way. no longer could i get pregnant by using the same soap, or being downwind, or even having sex. it took a year to get a BFP only to lose at 7 weeks. the stubborn mule in me, accompanied by my super supportive husband, were back traveling the rails, albeit in first class with our feet up and no thoughts of destination, but committed to the ride...we endured another 16 week loss, then a blighted ovum, and most recently at almost 12 weeks.
now if you kept count that is 11 miscarriages, 3 children, a knight in shining armor...
...and a cape.
we haven’t packed away the cape, but that is most likely what will happen. i would rather be traveling long distance as opposed to this commuting shit, so we are looking to the airlines and a different kind of destination. at least that is what the plan is for today.
my name is lorin and around here i am known as beyondbadluck because even though unexplained pregnancy loss is often a "bad luck" diagnosis, we can move beyond it.
