by Band Back Together | Oct 12, 2010 | Baby Loss, Coping With Baby Loss, Livng Through A Miscarriage, Long Distance Relationships, Loss, Miscarriage |
I should be a mother.
I’m not.
I got pregnant at 18. My boyfriend (now husband) and I hadn’t been together long – it was a long-distance relationship, and the two months he spent visiting me that summer were the first time we’d been together face-to-face, the first time we’d gotten intimate without a phone or keyboard or webcam involved.
It wasn’t until he left to go back home, after plans had been made for me to visit his family at Christmas, during my winter break, that we found out I was pregnant. And not exactly in the best way possible. I was on the pill, and my period had been almost non-existent thanks to the contraceptives. I started bleeding and cramping. So get thee to the doctor, young Anne, where I had the fright of my life.
That I was miscarrying was shocking enough – I was on the pill! That I was still pregnant after that was even more so. Twins run in both of our families. My boyfriend and I flailed around, tried to make plans and decide what to do – we were 18! Living in different countries! Both in school! What would we tell our parents?! Nothing, it turned out.
I miscarried the first at around five weeks, and the second four weeks later.
Intellectually, it was a relief. I was 18, in university, no job, living with my parents and siblings, my partner lived in another country… a baby was the last thing I needed.
But oh, how I wanted it. Far more after I lost them both than while I was still pregnant. A pregnant woman or small baby would bring me to tears. I was a wreck for weeks afterward (I’m still surprised my mother never seemed to figure out something was wrong) and ended up withdrawing from university and entering a modern apprenticeship at a daycare. Which was even more agonizing, though I loved working with the children.
I gave that up after six months (and trouble with both the senior daycare staff who (illegally) treated me like a cleaner and the ‘adviser’ for my apprenticeship work forgetting to meet with me and holding our meetings in front or the co-workers who were breaking the law so I couldn’t SAY anything) and moved to office work, which is where I’ve been since. Fewer babies and pregnant women.
It’s been six years, but it still hurts. I cry at baby product advertisements on the TV. I sobbed for hours after reading some of the posts here on Band Back Together. I watch children on the bus and on the street. I wonder what my babies would have been like. I brush off co-workers’ and in-laws’ questions about when we’re planning to start a family with a flip comment about having plenty of time.
I don’t tell them that I should have twin five-year-olds.
It still hurts. I sometimes wonder if it will ever stop.
by Band Back Together | Sep 28, 2010 | Child Loss, Coping With Losing A Child, HELLP Syndrome, Livng Through A Miscarriage, Loss, Miscarriage, Stillbirth |
Even now, nine years after the fact, I struggle about where to post this. I’ve been told so many times that I had a miscarriage, that Maggie wasn’t even a viable baby.
She was my baby. She was my daughter. I held her in my arms, and I gave her a name.
I have a daughter.
Some people I know are surprised to hear this, since I only talk about my sons, Big and Little G. I don’t talk a lot about the fact that there were pregnancies #4 and 5.
I’m going to pull a lot of this from a story I posted at the Preeclampsia Foundation back in 2002. The women in the forums there saved my sanity, and I love them for it.
About 17 weeks into my second pregnancy (my first ended with a miscarriage at 14 weeks), I experienced a day where I threw up all day long. I hadn’t had morning sickness at all, so I was a little concerned, but Car (my husband) and I assumed I had a 24-hour bug. The next day I didn’t throw up, but I simply didn’t feel well. I had a general feeling of unwellness from then on, but nothing specific.
At about 17.5 weeks, the pain started. At first I assumed the pain, which was located just below my sternum, was heartburn. I’d never had heartburn, but I couldn’t imagine what else the stabbing pain could be, and everyone knows that pregnant women get terrible heartburn. The pain got progressively worse until I could no longer work. I asked a few people if this was really what heartburn was like, and they assured me that pregnancy heartburn could be really bad. I took the maximum amount of antacids allowed, but nothing helped.
I had my usual appointment with my perinatologist on a Wednesday, and I mentioned the pain. He suggested Pepcid AC. My urine showed only a trace of protein, so there was no cause for concern, despite the fact that I had to have a friend drive me to my appointment because the pain was so intense.
That evening, as I curled up in a ball on the couch and sobbed, Car decided I needed to go to the emergency room. I refused, positive the ER personnel would laugh at the pregnant woman who couldn’t handle simple heartburn. We finally struck a compromise–I would page my local OB and if she thought I needed to go to the ER, I would. When my doctor returned the page, I was crying too hard to speak with her, so my husband filled her in. She also thought it was most likely heartburn, but said if the pain was bad enough that I couldn’t talk on the phone, the ER wouldn’t be a bad idea.
The first thing the doctor at the ER did was give me something he called a “GI Cocktail.” It’s a lovely little drink that numbs your entire digestive tract down to your stomach, and will apparently subdue even the worst heartburn. It made my tongue and throat numb, but did nothing for the pain. The doctor said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but it’s not heartburn.” They gave me a shot of Demerol for the pain and ran several tests (blood work, ultrasound, CT scan). After about 4 hours in the ER, all they could come up with was, “We can’t find anything wrong except for some elevated liver enzymes. We think it’s probably your gallbladder. Call your doctor in the morning.” They discharged me and sent me home.
The next day I called my doctor and told her I had elevated liver enzymes and the ER doctor thought I had something wrong with my gallbladder. My wonderful doctor, whom I credit with saving my life, said, “That doesn’t sound right. Let me makes some calls and call you back.” Within 30 minutes, she called me back and told me to go to the hospital for further testing.
From that point on, things become a blur. I was admitted to the hospital on Thursday and put on a morphine drip for pain. My liver enzymes skyrocketed, my platelets dropped. We were told that the best-case scenario was hepatitis. My red blood cells started to self-destruct and my kidneys began to shut down. My brother flew out from Minnesota in case he had to say goodbye. Every possible liver disease was tested for and ruled out between Thursday and Saturday, when the doctors finally settled on the final diagnosis–HELLP Syndrome. They told us that to save my life we would need to terminate the pregnancy. I begged them to prolong the pregnancy long enough to save my child. The doctor told me, “I don’t think you understand. It’s not an either/or situation. If we don’t end the pregnancy, both you AND your baby will die.”
I was 19 weeks pregnant.
On Saturday night a doctor started the process of manual dilation (which is every bit as painful as it sounds), and on Sunday I delivered a perfectly formed little girl, Margaret Marie. Maggie weighed 3.88 ounces and never took a breath on this earth. I held her in my arms, counted her fingers and toes, and decided she looked like my husband, who was weeping by my side.
About six months after Maggie was born, we decided to try again. I miscarried at six weeks. I told myself , “At least it happened early,” but I was still devastated.
Three months after that, I had my first drink.
by Band Back Together | Sep 23, 2010 | Baby Loss, Coping With Baby Loss, Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, Livng Through A Miscarriage, Loss, Miscarriage, Pregnancy |
I wrote the following Monday, July 12, 2010 just hours before I had a D&C procedure.
I can’t sleep. Too much on my mind. I write this with a lump in my throat.
The day before my son Lucas’ first birthday, got a positive pregnancy test. We had only been “trying” for two weeks! Can you say fertile? Stranger things have happened.
Learning I was pregnant for the first time was one of the most exciting days of my life. Not only is it a major milestone on the path of adulthood, it is one of the most joyous experiences you will ever have. I will never forget the day I found out I was pregnant with Lucas. I cried tears of happiness, excitement, and fear.
Learning I was pregnant a second time was a little more shocking for me. I had just gotten back to my pre-pregnancy weight and into my favorite jeans. The hair around my face was starting to grow back and I was FINALLY starting to get the hang of this “mommy thing.” The tears this time came from pure disbelief. I was excited but also troubled by how our perfect little family of three was going to change. I was mostly concerned with how this new addition would affect Lucas and how I might handle two under two. Doing the quick calculations, Lucas and his sibling would be almost 21 months apart.
I thought I was nine weeks along at my first OB/GYN visit when an ultrasound revealed that I was only measuring at six weeks. We were told we could have our dates off.
I’m pretty good (obsessive) with dates and knew deep down inside that something was terribly wrong.
My doctor ordered blood work to check my hCG (the pregnancy hormone) levels and more ultrasounds a week later. Unfortunately, my hCG levels dropped and we learned last Thursday that there had been no growth to the embryo since week six. I had a terrific pregnancy with my son, so why would I think anything would or could go wrong with this one? I certainly felt pregnant.
But, in the end, my gut was right. There was something wrong and this pregnancy wasn’t meant to be.
Of course, we’ll never know exactly what went wrong. Why did this happen to us? What went wrong? Did I do something different this time around? Will it happen again?
I know that miscarriage is far more common than we like to think and often times there are no answers. I’ll have to accept that. Eventually.
All I know right now is that this hurts. I’m sad and because I don’t want to wait around for my body to have a natural miscarriage, I have a D & C (a procedure to scrape and collect the tissue from inside the uterus) scheduled for this afternoon.
Please keep those of us who have been through this terrible ordeal in your thoughts. Thank you.
by Band Back Together | Sep 20, 2010 | Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, Livng Through A Miscarriage, Loss, Miscarriage |
I am pregnant.
But I don’t know for how long. I peed on a stick in the office. The nurse and doctor watched the line appear…and then disappear. My doctor said he had never seen anything like that happen. He looked at the nurse and then at me and then at the test. He was shocked.
So he said “You’re definitely pregnant right now…but I don’t know for how long.”
I am on partial bed-rest which means that I am to do no heavy lifting. I’m on Zofran for nausea. He will test my HCG hormone levels in a few days and see if it is higher. If it is lower, he will give me a prescription for pain pills and we will wait for my body to miscarry.
I am literally sitting here, willing my baby to stay inside me. Telling it to hang on long enough to get a good grip. Hang in there little guy, just hang on. I am bleeding and cramping but I have been told that is because up until two days ago I was on birth control pills.
It doesn’t FEEL like a miscarriage, yet.
So I’ll sit here on my couch and try to grow a baby. I will try to keep my child alive. And I will hope and pray that when they call tomorrow, my numbers will go up.
The bleeding will stop.
The cramping will stop.
I will have three people there to meet my husband when he comes home from his deployment.
We will be a family of three. We will be.
********************
When I wrote this, I was pregnant. Two days later, I was not. I saw the ultrasound, it was there! And now it is not. I still have a baby bump…and nothing inside. My heart is broken, my body is broken, and my husband is 6,700 miles away. The logical side of me says to that we should wait to have a baby. We should wait until he can be here to hold my hair back when I am sick, when he can rub my back and feet and feel our child moving inside me. But the other side…the other side says GET PREGNANT AS SOON AS HE GETS BACK!! Twelve month deployment be damned!
I am so torn. And heartbroken. And yet VERY strong. I have to be strong for my little boy. He needs his mother.
by Band Back Together | Sep 15, 2010 | A Letter To My Younger Self, Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, Livng Through A Miscarriage, Loss, Miscarriage, Pregnancy |
Hindsight is 20/20 – that is what they say right? Do you ever wish you could go back in time – back to the future style – and share some words of wisdom to yourself? At times I find myself wishing I had that super power – or technology caught up because I could have some interesting/heartbreaking conversations with myself:
A Letter My Younger Self About: Miscarriage:
Dear Devan,
I think that you should sit down because what I have to tell you is not going to be easy to hear. It will seem near impossible but I am so sorry to tell you it is true. In 5 short years, you will experience one of the hardest journeys you will have been on in your 28 years of life and experience: 10 heartbreaking & painful miscarriages. Yes, 10.
You will bounce from worrying about ever getting pregnant because of your previous surgeries for ovarian cysts to worrying about never carrying a pregnancy to term. However, after your first 3 miscarriages you will become obsessed with basal body temping and you will be diagnosed with a short luteal phase and progesterone deficiency. Although this is part of the answer after you have your healthy boy and start trying to conceive again, you will be punched in the heart with 2 more miscarriages.
You will be strong and try to pretend this is not affecting you as much as it really is. You will not share your feelings with anyone, not your husband, your family, or friends. You will battle through it and you will be blessed with your second full-term child – a beautiful girl.
I wish I could tell you this was the end of your heartache. You will, in fact, endure 4 more and then you will become pregnant again and you will pass your 8th week and think you will be welcoming your third child in a handful of months. A phone call that literally brings you to your knees will have you broken in ways you could not imagine. Your amazing husband will be there to catch you. He will guide you through the surgery and he will be your rock. Triton will be with you forever and you will think about him a lot. After some new medical plans and medication you will welcome your third healthy child and she will bring you back from some of that darkness and sadness.
I wish I could tell you that all this wouldn’t happen. I wish I could stop it from happening. The reality is this experience, this wordless journey will define so much of who you are – not negatively. Good things will come from it – you will see just how strong your marriage is and just how incredible your husband is to help hold you up when you thought you were sinking. Your children will bring so much joy to your life because you know how much you fought and ached for them.
You will realize how strong you are and that this – motherhood – was without a doubt what you were put on this earth to do.
by Band Back Together | Sep 15, 2010 | Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, Livng Through A Miscarriage, Loss, Miscarriage |
This post is not intended to knock people who have said some of these comments. I myself have mistakenly said these to someone before I had gone through a miscarriage. I have been told each of these statements at some point during my losses and although it can be difficult to know what the right thing to say is and most people genuinely mean well, here is why I find these statements so hurtful:
You can always have another! -or- You can always try again.
Although it is true that many couples struggle with infertility, the end goal of getting pregnant is not the positive pregnancy test but the baby. Merely being able to get pregnant is not a comfort for most women who experience a miscarriage.
Many women can go on to try again after a miscarriage, and indeed many find comfort in that idea after time. However, for someone grieving a loss, one baby does not replace another. Each loss needs to be dealt with individually and the woman needs to think about trying again on her own time when she is ready.
Be grateful for the children you have!
Even if a woman has living children, they do not replace the baby she lost. Grieving does not mean you are ungrateful!
I know what you are going through.
If you have not lost a baby, please do not say this to a mother grieving a miscarriage. Just as with anything else in life, unless you’ve experienced it yourself, you simply do not know how it feels. However, if you have had a miscarriage, it can be reassuring to a woman grieving a miscarriage to hear your story.
It was not a real baby – it was just a fetus.
This comment is hurtful on so many levels! It was a baby to the mom – you feel the connection and the physical effects and your body changing from VERY early on.
At least you didn’t know your baby!
All women know their babies growing inside of them. You mean before it was a real baby and I got attached? Nope, this does not make any difference. It still hurts like mad. Some of us love our babies from the minute we found out we were pregnant.
There must have been something wrong. -or- It’s probably for the best.
Never speculate that a miscarriage was for the best. Miscarriages happen for many reasons, and you do not know what may or may not have caused this particular loss. The best for whom? Me? The now-dead baby? You? The greater good of the nation? This does not make the person feel better.
It won’t happen again
Everyone hopes that everything will be fine in the next pregnancy, but sometimes it isn’t. Women who have recurrent miscarriages often remember being reassured by others that everything would be fine next time, and sometimes this makes for an even harder time coping with the second loss.
After so many miscarriages you should be getting used to it.
I have had 10 miscarriages and each one was equally painful – no matter how far along I made it to. Each one was a baby and each one was important and wanted!
Be brave, don’t cry. -or- Get on with your life, this isn’t the end of the world!
It is healthy and important to grieve.
Remember, when a woman is going through a miscarriage, she is mourning over
- the death of her child and the fact that she will not get to hold her child or meet her baby face to face
- the knowledge that she will not get to watch her child grow up, see her child’s personality develop or see her child achieve his/her dreams
- a sense of failure. I haven’t met a woman yet who has miscarried and hasn’t wondered if it was somehow her fault. She failed, her body failed, she’s being punished for a past mistake, she shouldn’t have eaten this or drank that – all of these thoughts can easily play through the grieving mommy’s mind.
6 SIMPLE WORDS TO SAY:
I AM SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS
