I know I have been erratic in my posting. I apologize. Part of that is due to trying to figure out all the facets of this whole blogging thing. The other part is a little more personal.
I mentioned in a recent post that we were looking forward to sharing some exciting news soon. Well, unfortunately, I can share some news, but it’s not as exciting as we had hoped.
Two days ago, I lost Baby #3.
In February 2011, we got pregnant for the first time. We were so excited, and partially stunned. We really hadn’t been doing anything to prevent it for quite awhile, content to let nature take it’s course. I was 37 years old at the time, so we were nervous. But everything was going well! The baby looked great during every ultrasound, and there really is nothing like hearing the heartbeat of the little person growing inside you.
Then the bleeding started, and didn’t stop. Bed rest and meds followed for several weeks, but to no avail. Baby #1 was just shy of 12 weeks when we lost it.
We were devastated, but remained hopeful. After all, we discovered that we could actually get pregnant. And so many first pregnancies are lost to miscarriage. We were disappointed, but knew we would try again.
I found out I was pregnant with Baby #2 a few months later while I was halfway across the country helping a friend move. We were cautiously optimistic, but with the first one under our belt and lots of preventative measures to try this time, we were very hopeful. Things seemed to be going well! I felt good, and no bleeding! We went in for our first ultrasound around week 8, excited to see how the little one was doing.
It’s never a good sign with the doctors and techs talk quietly and not directly to you. They searched for several minutes for a heartbeat, but could not find one. Apparently the baby died about week 5, and all the precautions I was taking were just preventing the inevitable. A couple of weeks later, I miscarried Baby #2.
I don’t really know the stories of any of the other women I know that have had miscarriages, so I don’t have anything to compare to. I miscarried both of mine at home, in the middle of the night. It is possibly the scariest thing I have ever been through. I really thought I was going to die on my bathroom floor.
Then the depression set in. One of those kinds of depressions that you don’t even really know you have, but it seems like the world is spinning around you, and you are just watching it spin. We went to counseling, which helped. You never really realize the guilt and anger you feel until you put it into words in front of your husband and therapist.
I felt like it was my fault. I felt like a failure.
So, we went on with life. We’d talk about it from time to time, but I was trying to get used to the idea that maybe kids weren’t in our future. I sometimes avoided baby showers. I made plans to redo the room that would have been the nursery. I turned 38. I went about trying to find other ways to feel valuable in my own life.
Then, out of the blue, I was late. I really didn’t believe it, but I peed om four sticks that all said “Yep, you get another shot at it, sister!”. I was spotting from the beginning, but it never really got any worse, so I wasn’t too concerned about it. I made an appointment with a new doctor at a new clinic. I went for that appointment two days ago. And once again, it’s not going to happen for us.
Now I’m going to go through a bunch of testing to see if we can figure out what is going on. I’m making some lifestyle changes with the hopes of changing the outcome next time. And we’re crossing our fingers that our next try will turn out better. And I hope it does, because I can’t put into words how much this sucks.