Part 2. Rhys
Part 3: Rosy
We last left off with seeing the OB in early October. Possible reasons were discussed and a recurrent loss panel would be done to check hormones, egg/ovary health, among other things. There was a plan ahead and I felt so comfortable with the care I was receiving. In the event that we got pregnant again immediately, our testing would be put on hold and HCG levels and an early ultrasound would be scheduled. All good... however...
This is about the time where I started hearing soap opera music playing at various parts of the day and sometimes, expected to hear "CUT! It's a wrap. Good job, everybody." And off I would go to my normal, boring suburban life. Or maybe it was a dream... crazy things happen in dreams that totally make sense there, but then you wake up. I couldn't seem to pinch myself hard enough to bring me back to consciousness.
I say all that because on October 8th (a few days before I expected my period), I got a positive pregnancy test. Instead of feeling like a carnival side show, I decided to embrace this tiny life and choose hope, so very actively choose hope.
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| I keep adding pregnancy tests, which I would apologize for, except it's my only visible proof that my baby existed. |
That morning we were headed down to the St. Gianna shrine with a friend, who happened to also be carrying her rainbow baby, and was due just before me. It all seemed like a sign, or the stars aligning, or fate, or something. St. Gianna is the patron saint of unborn children, and just being in church that day (her shrine was in the back corner of a church) felt right. I cautiously prayed that Mary watch over this new baby. Protect him/her. It was a peaceful and happy visit... and then we got Burger King and went to the park because #balance.
The next week seemed to go in slow motion.
Monday: I found out.
Tuesday: Called my OB. They were happy and I got genuine congratulations. That alone felt validating... I easily could have received verbal eye rolls.
Wednesday: First HCG & progesterone draw: HCG, 29. Progesterone, 27. The progesterone looked awesome which was so reassuring because progesterone was cited as a possible culprit. The HCG was low, but it could have still been really early into the pregnancy, so I truly wasn't worried.
Thursday: I began a 10 week stint as a postpartum doula to a set of twins. I went to their home once a week (and later, twice) and stayed in their nursery from 10pm to 6am: feeding, changing, rocking and settling into solid sleep. This night felt magical. It was my first time with them, which felt a little daunting... I've only had one baby at a time and here are two newborns starting at me. But more than that I was excited. I remember talking to them and telling them that I was going to have a baby, just like them. I even entertained the idea of twins myself. I imagined my own June baby... squishy and sweet. I pictured nursing, rocking, being enveloped in that sweet baby aroma. It was a wonderful night.
Friday: Second HCG draw: HCG 38. My heart sank as soon as they said the number. HCG is supported to double every 48 hours. Mine went up 9 points. I knew, at that moment, that I would face another loss. I brought my concerns to Jim that night and it made him mad. He said I was forecasting. I felt like I would just being realistic and preparing myself for what was ahead. I think he held onto hope, but I lost mine. Yes, the number rose, but not enough and I was 99% certain a loss would come. However, I had to wait until Monday to test again.
Saturday: I hosted the Lehigh Valley Hearts Release. This event was something the my friend and fellow doula, Brittany, and I put together. Names of babies lost too soon were placed in tiny paper hearts. Over the course of a few months, names were collected, names written, and plans made. We had over 300 hearts to release and 300+ babies to honor. The event turned out about 100 people. We were overwhelmed, what a wonderful turnout. On the personal front, I walked through that day, trying not to cry, knowing that I had added two new names to hearts in the last 2 months, but also that the baby I was currently carrying was going to be gone soon too. It was a hard and emotional day for me. I think it was one that I masked fairly well, though. At least, I hope that I did.
Monday: I found out.
Tuesday: Called my OB. They were happy and I got genuine congratulations. That alone felt validating... I easily could have received verbal eye rolls.
Wednesday: First HCG & progesterone draw: HCG, 29. Progesterone, 27. The progesterone looked awesome which was so reassuring because progesterone was cited as a possible culprit. The HCG was low, but it could have still been really early into the pregnancy, so I truly wasn't worried.
Thursday: I began a 10 week stint as a postpartum doula to a set of twins. I went to their home once a week (and later, twice) and stayed in their nursery from 10pm to 6am: feeding, changing, rocking and settling into solid sleep. This night felt magical. It was my first time with them, which felt a little daunting... I've only had one baby at a time and here are two newborns starting at me. But more than that I was excited. I remember talking to them and telling them that I was going to have a baby, just like them. I even entertained the idea of twins myself. I imagined my own June baby... squishy and sweet. I pictured nursing, rocking, being enveloped in that sweet baby aroma. It was a wonderful night.
Friday: Second HCG draw: HCG 38. My heart sank as soon as they said the number. HCG is supported to double every 48 hours. Mine went up 9 points. I knew, at that moment, that I would face another loss. I brought my concerns to Jim that night and it made him mad. He said I was forecasting. I felt like I would just being realistic and preparing myself for what was ahead. I think he held onto hope, but I lost mine. Yes, the number rose, but not enough and I was 99% certain a loss would come. However, I had to wait until Monday to test again.
Saturday: I hosted the Lehigh Valley Hearts Release. This event was something the my friend and fellow doula, Brittany, and I put together. Names of babies lost too soon were placed in tiny paper hearts. Over the course of a few months, names were collected, names written, and plans made. We had over 300 hearts to release and 300+ babies to honor. The event turned out about 100 people. We were overwhelmed, what a wonderful turnout. On the personal front, I walked through that day, trying not to cry, knowing that I had added two new names to hearts in the last 2 months, but also that the baby I was currently carrying was going to be gone soon too. It was a hard and emotional day for me. I think it was one that I masked fairly well, though. At least, I hope that I did.
After the release, I went to Josh's baseball game and normal life ensued for the moment.
Sunday: More baseball. I was able to put my focus onto Josh's playoff games and enjoy my time as a baseball-mom. I love watching them play and this was the perfect distraction, especially when it's literally a DAY's worth of baseball games!
Monday: 3rd blood draw. By this point, my arms are bruised and sore. This was my 8th draw since August, 3rd draw in a week. Result: HCG, 2 Progesterone .3. I was confirmed to have lost my baby, and the miscarriage would start soon. Overnight, that's exactly what happened.
Tuesday, October 16th: I lost my third baby in three months time. I was welcomed (or more appropriately: cast) into a special group. I received a label. I was now the 1% of women who have had 3 or more consecutive losses. Yay me.
I remember slowly telling the few people closest to me that I lost another pregnancy and always prefacing it with "If I wasn't living it, I absolutely wouldn't believe it myself." It felt like the twilight zone. That Thursday night, I walked back into the twins nursery without my own baby in tow. I knew that baby for 8 days. 8. That's it.
I chose to hide this pregnancy and loss from much of the world. I truly felt like an oddity. I felt like I wouldn't be believed. I felt like I would get stares of ridicule or doubt. With Ruby, I posted immediately about her loss. With Rhys, I posted a few weeks later announcing him. This time, I couldn't do it. I didn't want questions or nay-sayers. I needed a hug. I needed compassion and warmth and to be told that everything would be ok. I think losing this baby, who I named Rosy, was a loss of culmination. Her loss felt compounded by the losses of Ruby and Rhys as well. I think I finally truly grieved them all collectively.
The months that followed October were met with:
- Test results coming back 100% normal, a shrug, and "give it some time and then try again."
- Times of complete normalcy and functioning well.
- Times of grief blindsiding me and immediate tears sometimes followed.
- That literal feeling of a sucker punch from something so innocent and standard: seeing a pregnant belly the size I would have, or hearing an announcement of a pregnancy due when I was due. It could even be something so random and something I wouldn't expect to hit home, and yet ::right to the gut.::
- The kindest words or just-right heartfelt gift that just spoke to my soul and was a stitch to my broken heart.
- Check-ins from friends
- Thoughts of needing to trust. Being scared to trust. Learning to trust again.
- The busyness of work, which included snuggles and satisfaction of making someone else's motherhood journey just a bit easier by caring for her babies at night.
- Lemons: At some point, I felt a connection to lemons. These losses back-to-back so felt like the proverbial "When life hands you lemons..." situation. I was getting handed lemons, and it felt like lots of them. I decided that if I was getting handed lemons, that I would begin to like lemons. I would take those lemons, embrace them, and maybe, just maybe something sweet would eventually come from them. I changed my phone screen to lemons to remind myself that, yes, I might be going through a tough road right now. I might be in a storm, but also, that was ok and it wouldn't last forever.
The last night I had with the twins was December 18th and when I walked in, both were wearing lemon sleepers.
Monday: 3rd blood draw. By this point, my arms are bruised and sore. This was my 8th draw since August, 3rd draw in a week. Result: HCG, 2 Progesterone .3. I was confirmed to have lost my baby, and the miscarriage would start soon. Overnight, that's exactly what happened.
Tuesday, October 16th: I lost my third baby in three months time. I was welcomed (or more appropriately: cast) into a special group. I received a label. I was now the 1% of women who have had 3 or more consecutive losses. Yay me.
I remember slowly telling the few people closest to me that I lost another pregnancy and always prefacing it with "If I wasn't living it, I absolutely wouldn't believe it myself." It felt like the twilight zone. That Thursday night, I walked back into the twins nursery without my own baby in tow. I knew that baby for 8 days. 8. That's it.
I chose to hide this pregnancy and loss from much of the world. I truly felt like an oddity. I felt like I wouldn't be believed. I felt like I would get stares of ridicule or doubt. With Ruby, I posted immediately about her loss. With Rhys, I posted a few weeks later announcing him. This time, I couldn't do it. I didn't want questions or nay-sayers. I needed a hug. I needed compassion and warmth and to be told that everything would be ok. I think losing this baby, who I named Rosy, was a loss of culmination. Her loss felt compounded by the losses of Ruby and Rhys as well. I think I finally truly grieved them all collectively.
The months that followed October were met with:
- Test results coming back 100% normal, a shrug, and "give it some time and then try again."
- Times of complete normalcy and functioning well.
- Times of grief blindsiding me and immediate tears sometimes followed.
- That literal feeling of a sucker punch from something so innocent and standard: seeing a pregnant belly the size I would have, or hearing an announcement of a pregnancy due when I was due. It could even be something so random and something I wouldn't expect to hit home, and yet ::right to the gut.::
- The kindest words or just-right heartfelt gift that just spoke to my soul and was a stitch to my broken heart.
- Check-ins from friends
- Thoughts of needing to trust. Being scared to trust. Learning to trust again.
- The busyness of work, which included snuggles and satisfaction of making someone else's motherhood journey just a bit easier by caring for her babies at night.
- Lemons: At some point, I felt a connection to lemons. These losses back-to-back so felt like the proverbial "When life hands you lemons..." situation. I was getting handed lemons, and it felt like lots of them. I decided that if I was getting handed lemons, that I would begin to like lemons. I would take those lemons, embrace them, and maybe, just maybe something sweet would eventually come from them. I changed my phone screen to lemons to remind myself that, yes, I might be going through a tough road right now. I might be in a storm, but also, that was ok and it wouldn't last forever.
The last night I had with the twins was December 18th and when I walked in, both were wearing lemon sleepers.
Now, my story isn't over. Will we have a baby? I don't know. Will we have more losses? I don't know. The rest has yet to be written, but I honor these three little lives lost in 2018 and remember my first baby lost in 2011. Those four are a part of my story and a part of me. Their lives may have been short, but they mattered. To anyone out there who has lost a baby, let me say it loud and clear. Your baby matters. You matter. Their memory matters. Chin up and my inbox is absolutely always open.
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