A Bitter-Sweet Mother’s Day

This post has been in the back of my mind for months now and I just haven’t felt it was the right time to write it yet.  Today, Mother’s Day, finally felt appropriate.

9 months ago, I became pregnant.  Jack and I had been talking kids for a while but just weren’t ready to take the plunge.  When Dad got sick, it finally gave us both the desire to plunge into baby making.  The thought of bringing a baby into this world, without Dad ever meeting him/her was unbearable.  My parents were both a huge presence in my nieces and nephews lives.  They watched the kids all the time, and went to visit the ones over seas at least once a year.  Thinking of raising my children without that presence was one of the hardest parts of losing my dad.

Dad passed away on July 23, and two weeks later I found out I was pregnant. I had no idea what was coming. It all became very confusing, and fast.

Long story short, when we first found out the Dr. estimated I was about 9 weeks along.  It was a little bitter-sweet.  It was the most amazing feeling, thinking there was a little baby inside of me while Dad was still alive.  On the other hand, I was incredibly depressed that I didn’t know earlier so I was not able to give him the news before passing away.  He was so ready for us to start our little family.

Thinking I was so far along already I went for my first sono immediately.  Once in there we discovered I was only a few weeks along. That in itself was a major emotional roller coaster trying to digest that I was in fact, not pregnant when Dad was alive.  Immediately, things changed.  My hormone levels were all too low.  They began pumping me with large amounts of progesterone, monitoring my hormone levels with blood work every few days, and having me come for a sono every week.  Before I was 6 weeks pregnant I had already had 4 sono’s.

I went for my 4th sono at 6 weeks exactly, I was by myself.  I was able to hear a very faint, slow, heartbeat.  That moment it became so real.  I began getting incredibly sick. The hormones were obviously kicking in, because I was sick, all day, everyday.  At 8 weeks Jack and I went back expecting for him to hear the heartbeat for the first time. The sonographer began crying. She knew the story of Dad as we had mutual acquaintances, and had become very invested in my pregnancy, especially since she saw me every week.  She told us the baby died at 6 weeks, and 1 day.  The day after I heard the heart beat the first time. I laid there on the table, stunned.  I thought to myself, this must be a sick joke.  Why on earth would The Lord allow me to get pregnant amidst all this turmoil just to take the baby from us?

That day, felt like one of the longest days of my life.  Jack and I spent most of the day in silence.  I cried, a lot, but everyone that loves me, cried more.  We were all so confused.  It felt like The Lord had overcome extreme circumstances to allow me to get pregnant.  I skipped my period the month Dad was in the hospital, and then wham, pregnant.  Amidst chaos, emotional devastation, sleep deprivation, and many other reasons why the thought of me getting pregnant at that time seemed so far-fetched.

Once that day was over, it would be months before I emotionally faced it again.  The sickness continued for weeks since my body was so full of hormones.  I chose to try to miscarry naturally, and let my body do the work instead of having a D&C.  I did not begin to miscarry until 9 weeks after the baby passed.  Little did I know it was all just beginning.

I bled, and bled, and bled.  I bled for 6 months.  My Dr kept saying, “There is only a small amount of tissue left so at this point I don’t want to risk having you do a D&C.” It seemed like it would never end.  Throughout all this time I had to go multiple times a week to have blood drawn to keep monitoring my HCG’s and possible infection.  I have had at least 10 sono’s if not more.  On Valentine’s Day, she sent me to the ER to get a methotrexate injection.  This injection is a form of chemo therapy that would cause the tissue to dissolve, or come out.  She said this was a lower risk option than the D&C.  I had told her multiple times at this point that I would do the surgery if that’s what I needed to do to be done with everything.  After the injection, she then told me that we had to wait 6 months before trying to get pregnant again, due to the side effects it could have on the baby.

My HCG did eventually drop to the proper levels and I had my first cycle in March.  It threw me under the bus.  The pain and cramping was so excruciating I had to take hydrocodine for days.  My cycle lasted for 12 brutal days.  I just figured it was so horrible because I had not had one in 8 months.  I had to go for one more follow-up sono thinking it was all finally over, unfortunately they found fluid in my uterus that was going to require me to have a D&C anyway.

I was pissed.  If I was going to have to have it anyway, why on earth did we just suffer through the most miserable experience for so long?  I wanted to do it months ago, and then this all could have been over.  I scheduled the surgery but in the meantime went for a second opinion.  I then had my next cycle, which felt completely normal so I suggested I go for one last sono to make sure the fluid had not passed on its own.

May 8, was my due date.  On May 8 they called me and told me my sono came back clean.  It was all finally over, and I could move on.  We are still recommended to wait until August to try again, and to be honest I am so exhausted by the whole thing I will be shocked if I am ready by then.

The loss of this baby was greatly over shadowed by the loss of my Dad.  It wasn’t until a couple of months ago that I really began feeling the loss of the baby.  I long to have a baby.  I want nothing more than a little version of my Jack.  The one thing that I have continued to cling to is the thought of my sweet Daddy, in heaven, nurturing my little baby.  My mom, and both of my sisters have also had miscarriages.  It was always something I prepared myself for, but due to the timing of the pregnancy I thought I would get a free pass.  Clearly, I was wrong.

When I lost the baby my mom said to me, “Daddy hates to not be a part of what’s going on, he has a little piece of all of us up there with him, and he just also needed a piece of you.”

2017-08-11T15:57:24+00:00 May 12th, 2013|Baby, Daddy, Death, family, God, goodbye, Husband, life changing, loss, Me, Trials|

About the Author:

Writing has always allowed me to be able to communicate better what I am truly feeling not only with others but mainly with myself. It allows me to look inside my heart, figure things out, and help me be who I really want to be.