Where is he??!! Did he stop somewhere?? It was an April Sunday afternoon. We had just returned home from a weekend in Sugar Land. I had a feeling and took a test right when I got home. We'd driven separately, and I'd been home for 10 minutes. He had to have stopped. I called him and sure enough. He was getting a car wash. So now I had to wait patiently to tell him. How would I tell him? What would I say? I couldn't stop crying. I was on cloud nine. We'd been trying to grow our family for over a year. I was 34 when we started. It wasn't happening for us, so the Dr had us go through a series of tests. Turns out I had a uterine polyp, which was making it difficult for a possible embryo to stick. She removed it and expected I would be able to conceive. And now we're going to have a baby! I could barely contain myself when he walked in the door. He was so excited. We hugged and kissed.
"We have a heartbeat." I was 7 weeks, and our ultrasound tech just said 4 intoxicating words. This was an amazing day for both of us. The joy, excitement, happiness. We stood in the parking lot at the Dr's office oogling over each other. Neither of us wanting to go to work. The Dr asked me to come back in 2 weeks to be sure the baby was moving along at the right pace. She assured me she didn't think the baby wouldn't be. Little did I know, it was to "confirm" the pregnancy. I found this out the day we went back. I mean wasn't it aready confirmed? I do get it. It's just part of my story.
I've lived through so many of other's sad stories and experiences related to miscarriages. I was paranoid, but mostly ready to see the heartbeat and go about my wonderfully happy day. This time her first words were, "there's no heartbeat." It was what I would imagine a knife in my stomach to feel like. Just as no one can prepare you for the wonderful and hideous things about pregnancy and delivery, no one can prepare you to hear those words. I couldn't cry. I couldn't even look at my husband. I stared at the flat screen TV, where I had just seen the heartbeat 2 weeks earlier, as she tells us the baby stopped growing a few days ago. Now she's telling us where the head was. I didn't care. I stared at the ceiling. Scott's hand has been on my foot, and I finally turn to look at him. He is confused, sad and in obvious shock. I sit up and the tech leaves. Scott's arms are around me and now my uncontrollable sobbing begins. Walking out of that room was like the walk of shame. I felt like I couldn't give to my husband. Like I caused it; after all it's my body. Then it was "get this thing out of me."
Now what?
We scheduled the D&C for the next day. I wanted my mom. Scott & mom were by my side in the surgery center just like they were in December for the hysteroscopy and laparoscopy to remove the polyp. Once again, I'm waking up from anesthesia. This time, though, I was deeply saddened. My heart hurt. I cried with the nurse and drank my juice box. I needed some time before seeing Scott.
I closed myself off from family and friends, because it hurt so much to talk about. I didn't want sympathy or pity. I didn't know what I wanted, but I knew I wanted Scott. It took some time to emotionally heal, but I did. I was back to being me again. The pathology report explained the miscarriage was due to a chromosomal abnormality.
Three months later, I was pregnant with Coen. I didn't cry with excitement this time, but I did bounce around the living room like a spaz. I was beaming. I ran out to Academy and wrapped up a UT onesie for Scott to open when he got home from work. We were ecstatic. At 5 and a half weeks, I had a dream we were having a boy. Then the pregnancy sickness hit. It was 24/7, and it was tough. I had to carry storage zip locks with me and threw up or dry heaved all day. At work. Everywhere. All day. I stopped going places and couldn't even think about grocery shopping. I got in pjs every day at 4:30 and on the bed or couch. The sickness ended at 12 weeks 5 days. My baby boy was born on June 25, 2012. I never doubted this pregnancy, and I was never paranoid. I knew we were going to meet our son.
My family traveled from Sugar Land to San Antonio to be with us for Thanksgiving 2013. My younger sister had just undergone a procedure for her miscarriage 2 days earlier. I watched her accept the tragedy with such eloquence. She was still managing her physical pain, but accepting God's plan with grace. While she may not show all of her emotions, I knew there was pain in her heart. I watched the way she held her poise and admiringly watched as she playfully made a pumpkin pie with my 3 year old niece. She was my hero.
I always knew I wanted more than one child. I could only hope and then wait for God's plan to reveal itself. At Coen's 2nd birthday, we announced he was going to be a big brother! I was 5 and a half weeks pregnant. The pregnancy sickness started at 6 weeks and seemed worse than my pregnancy sickness with Coen. Like you would imagine, there was a lot of laying around, and Coen watched nonstop TV. No cooking. No cleaning. Nothing. If we were doing anything outside, I was throwing up in the trash can or grass. I stopped going outside. If we were at the park, I was throwing up behind a bench. We went once and never went back. If I wasn't laying down, the motion was too intense. I was sick. It let up all of a sudden, and I was relieved. I was only throwing up once or twice a day instead of 10 times an day. Something in my gut told me that I wanted to go to the ultrasound by myself. I wasn't 100% sure this baby was ok, and I couldn't bare to see the look on Scott's face if all was not ok.
It was my 8 week appointment, and there was no heartbeat. I wiped away one small tear as I lay there and made myself ok. After all, I was prepared this time. Remembering my sister helped me accept it with grace. We would just try again. I saw the Dr next and discussed my options. I looked at her and said, "Well I guess I can go to Sugar Land and celebrate the 4th with a beer." So I did. Our bags were already packed and waiting. Scott fed off my vibe and, also, gracefully accepted it. The sickness disappeared so fast. I didn't mind what was inside me. I celebrated the 4th with family and friends and went about my life. Shortly thereafter, I was back at the surgery center. Mom and Scott sat by my hospital bed before I was wheeled off for my second D&C. It was my third time there, and I knew the drill. This pathology report explained another chromosomal abnormality.
It's the following summer. We're ready to give it another try. Coen is 3. My 40th birthday celebrations have ended. I vision Coen growing with a sibling. He would make an amazing big brother. I want another baby so much that I can smell her. I didn't really think it would happen so fast, and honestly wasn't sure it would happen at all. I wasn't prepared for that, but I wasn't thinking that yet. We'd just started. I didn't stress. And it happened. I took a test as we headed out the door for our Church fall festival. I was in shock. So was Scott. After it sunk in, we hugged and hugged. This is awesome.
At 4 and a half weeks, I was getting sick. I was so sick for a week. I couldn't move. I threw up and dry heaved constantly. It wasn't clinically bad enough to be hospitalized, although it felt like I should be. It was that week that I knew I needed medication. The medication helped, but I was still sick. I suffered from depression, because I felt so terrible. I laid there sick and Coen watched a million hours of tv. I hated that. If I worked full time, I would have been put on FMLA. I had a dream we were having a girl at 5 and a half weeks. The same time I saw a boy when I was pregnant with Coen. I was relieved. I saw a heartbeat at 6 and a half weeks and continued with my pregnancy sickness and depression. There's no snapping yourself out of depression when you are 24/7 sick, nauseas, throwing up, dry heaving, green, exhausted, unable to spend any time with your son or husband, unable to see or talk to friends or family, and medicated.
Scott and I went for our 8 week ultrasound. I was a sick zombie. This time our favorite ultrasound tech used the word fetus. There was no heartbeat. Seriously? I looked at Scott and said, "I'm sorry." I knew it wasn't my fault, but I was sorry this was happening to us again. My sweet husband was in shock. I wiped away tears and let the tech take the necessary measurements and pictures. I couldn't believe this was happening. I suffered through all that and missed out on my life and son and husband for what??? The experience? Now all I can think about is how fast can the Dr do a D&C. I am still sick and ready to be me again. I shouldn't have to suffer if I'm not carrying a baby with a heartbeat. The Dr won't be here for another 25 minutes. It's 8:05 am, and my Dr appt is at 8:30. So we wait. We sit next to each other in the waiting room with my head on Scott's shoulder and his head on mine. I wipe away tears. And it's finally 8:30. The Dr is empathetic, and I tell her what I want. I am all too familiar with the options. Let's just do this. She goes over a few things, explains some possibilities (the greater chances of chromosomal abnormalities due to my age), and kindly ends the conversation with, "It's probably your age."
I came off my meds to prepare for general anesthesia. The Dr wasn't available til Friday, and it was a long 3 days of waiting. I had no idea just how much the medicine had helped. I was even sicker. I stayed in bed until the day of my procedure. I was so dehydrated from throwing up and not eating or drinking the night before to prepare for the anesthesia. We arrived at 11 am. I was dry heaving in the waiting room until they called me back at 11:45. I changed into the hospital gown, and my nurse set me up in bed. The IV of fluids gave me an incredible hydrated relief. Scott sat with me while the anesthesiologist came in, nurses checked on me, and finally, the Dr arrives at 1:30. After she leaves, I know what's coming next. The nurse comes in with the "margarita" injection (valium to calm the nerves before entering the operating room). I'm crying, because I don't want to go under and because I just can't believe it's come to this again...knowing it was likely our last shot. I put my operating cap on and wipe away the flowing tears. The nurse says, "It's coming. Give it 30 seconds." She's right. Scott kisses me goodbye with his sweet smile, and the nurse wheels me off. I look up at my anesthesiologist while I lay in the operating room and say, "Take care of me."
It's a 35 minute procedure. I wake up to a mask of oxygen and my new nurse by my side. I'm groggy and choose the apple juice. I'm ready for Scott to come back. "I did it," I tell him. The nurse dopes me up. I rest. Scott dresses me. We finally leave at 3:30 pm. I'm greeted in the garage by mom and Coen, then escorted to my bed and waited on by the three of them. I'm so pumped of pain meds that I feel no pain in my tummy or heart. My heart hurts the next day. And the next. And the next. One thing is for certain, though. I am so grateful to have given birth to a healthy, smart, loving boy. He's perfect.
While I don't know what the future holds, I do know that my body, mind and soul can not endure the physical and emotional pain associated with my kind of pregnancy sickness or a possible 4th D&C. And that is what breaks me. I don't know when that will go away.
So the next time we're at the park making chit chat or we're in line checking out at HEB, and someone asks me if he's my only child...Yes. I wanted a bigger family. I want to hold another creation of us. Scott and I have so much love to give. We want a sibling for Coen. We tried. Instead, I will smile as I feel a tug at my heart and answer with, "Yes. He's my only child."
