Wow. I honestly forgot for a while that this thing still existed. I seriously cannot believe it has been almost two years since I sat down and wrote a blog post on our lives. I totally regret it. I have loved going back through here the last few weeks and seeing how much our lives have changed over the years, and how itty bitty Claire used to be! I have to make this somewhat of a priority from now on, at least a couple of times a month! For my benefit, at least.
And holy shit- I need to update my header. And the overall layout. Ha!
Anyway, yes, we are still alive and well. Claire will be 3(!) in a month and I am in denial that she's starting pre-school this fall.
Honestly, I am not going to bore you with mundane details of our lives from the past year and nine months. But I do want to document an event that will always remain close to our hearts. An incredibly sad, life-changing (for us) event that occurred in May of this year.
(This is so difficult to write, let alone publish. So please, bare with me. Ok, here goes.)
Let me back up a bit. My sister-in-law and her husband welcomed their first baby into the world this past December. I had been wanting to try for a second baby for a few months prior to their son being born. Claire was getting older, and I was getting the itch for another squishy baby to be in the house. Dallas (my husband) was so not on board quite yet. So, clearly, there was nothing I could to about the baby fever that had kicked in. But, I kid you not, the second my husband laid eyes on his nephew on that sunny December afternoon in 2012, he looked at me and said "OK. I'm ready. I'm ready to start trying for Baby # 2."
So, from then on, we threw all caution to the wind, and began officially trying to expand our family. It didn't happen right away, which is to totally be expected. But the morning of May 1st was a totally unexpected event.
I had been feeling pms-y about a week prior to this day. Definitely knew my period was about to show. Marking month 5 in the Baby #2 Production books. That week passed and I still never had my period show.
I woke up on a snowy (blech) Wednesday morning, May 1st to a little girl trying to escape her room (we're the mean parents that have a child lock on the inside of her door. If we didn't, she'd be exploring the house at 2am without us knowing, doing God knows what). I got up to go to the bathroom and decided to take a cheapy Internet pregnancy test for the hell of it, since I still hadn't seen my period. I dipped the test, laid it on the counter and went to go get Claire from her room. I didn't really have much hope or great expectations of the results. Once I got her changed, I just peeked into the bathroom before going downstairs. And to my surprise, an incredibly dark line was next to the control line. Positive. I was freaking pregnant. Shocked, nervous, excited, all of the emotions you could possibly have, I had. I was just standing there laughing. Claire asked "What's that mommy?" pointing to the test in my hand. "It's a test that told mommy she has a baby in her tummy! You're going to be a Big Sister, baby!" "OH! A Big Stister (as she calls it)?! I want a baby!" Ha. She was obviously confused, poor thing.
After the initial shock wore off and I called my sister & sister-in-law to tell them, I called to make my first pre-natal appointment. May 23rd at 9am. Wow. So surreal and exciting. That date could NOT come quick enough. (In case you're wondering, I went out and bought Claire a Big Sister shirt that day and a First Response test. I had her wear that and hold the test when Dallas came home from work to tell him about our incredible news. It was the longest day ever! not telling him over the phone was the hardest! But I filmed the whole thing and it was perfect, so it was well worth the wait)
The month of May seemed to drag on, and on, and on. I had the typical early pregnancy symptoms. Sore boobs, exhausted, bone deep hungry all the time, slight nausea and incredible bloat. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Finally, Thursday, May 23rd arrived. I woke up in a great mood, albeit incredibly anxious. I had never been to this OB-GYN before, and had never met him, so I didn't quite know what to expect (i.e, if he would do an ultrasound, or what the actual appointment would entail). After was seemed like hours, we finally got called back into the room. The nurse took my blood pressure, asked me a variety of questions, and based on my last menstrual period, (LMP) my due date was December 26th (which I knew was not accurate considering I ovulate later in my cycle, putting me at the beginning of January to be due. I hate that doctors always go by your LMP, assuming every woman has a 28 cycle. Anyway). After the nurse left, I stripped down & put on that oh-so-comfy paper gown. The doctor came in, talked to us. The normal stuff. Then he decided to do an ultrasound to measure the baby. Based on the doctor's records, I was 9 weeks. Based on my cycle, I was about 7 weeks. I told him this, so when he couldn't see anything on the screen during the abdominal ultrasound, he was not surprised, and neither were my husband and I.
The dr. sent me downstairs for a viability scan (an awful term in my opinion). The ultrasound tech was the absolute sweetest ever. It took her a minute, but she immediately found the sac. Zooming in verrrry closely, she saw the tiniest of heartbeats. 95 beats per minute, and measuring at 6 weeks 1 day. Looking back now, this was a huge red flag for the pregnancy. There was no way I was only 6 weeks along. But, I went with it. The doctor said that it was a slower heartbeat, but probably nothing to worry about, BUT that my chances of miscarriage were raised a bit because of it and that he wanted to see me for a follow-up ultrasound in a week.
We left there feeling optimistic but nervous. I had a meltdown in my mom's arms in the parking lot, but quickly got over it. Everything was going to be fine. It had to be.
The day of May 30th was the slowest day ever. My ultrasound was at 3:15pm, and I was a ball of worry the whole day. I met my husband at the hospital and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, the doctor came in, put the wand on my belly, looked around and still could not see anything. This is where my anxiety turned to panic. My hands got really sweaty & I was fighting back the tears. "Hm. I'm not seeing much, so I'm going to send you downstairs again for a vaginal ultrasound." He didn't sound concerned. "Before you go down, set up your 12 week appointment so that you don't have to come back up after the ultrasound if all is well." That eased my panic a bit. I set up my next appointment and went downstairs for the ultrasound.
As soon as that wand went inside and the image of my uterus popped up on that screen, I knew. I knew that it was not all OK. "Oh you guys, there's no heartbeat." The ultrasound tech said, in the sweetest, consoling voice. I immediately started crying, and my husband just put his hand on mine, but didn't say anything. "Damn it. Why does this always happen to the cute couples?!" The tech yelled. That made me smile a bit ;)
The baby was only measuring 6 weeks 2 days. Only 1 day more than when we had seen him/her a week prior. I had been walking around for 6 days thinking I am happily pregnant, when my baby really was no longer alive.
My biggest nightmare as a pregnant woman had become my reality. I was the ONE of the 1 in 4 statistic. I had had a miscarriage. Technically, a missed-miscarriage (no signs of losing the baby. No cramping. No bleeding). I lost my baby. So not FAIR.
We had JUST seen a heartbeat last week!! This wasn't supposed to happen. How were we going to tell our family? How was I going to move on? I literally felt broken. Like a piece of me was gone.
I had a D&C the following morning. I opted for the surgery to remove everything rather than waiting around to pass the baby on my own. I wouldn't be able to mentally handle that- just waiting and wondering when my no- longer- living baby would leave my body. It's so morbid. Not something I could handle.
I am doing better now. Those first few weeks were so rough, obviously. And I definitely do still have my random moments of feeling sorry for myself. Or crying from getting that e-mail from TheBump telling me I'd be ___ amount of weeks along in my pregnancy now (I un-subscribed the moment I got that first email, for the record).
It absolutely sucks how common miscarriage is. And even though it is so common, it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. I wish I could say that this would have been a bit easier to handle if I never saw that little flicker of a heartbeat in the first place, but I can't say that. Because I don't know if it would have made this any easier. All I do know is that I am loving on my little family extra tight, and not taking a single moment with my daughter for granted. We are so lucky to have her, and she has definitely made this hard time a bit easier for everyone.
I am so sorry for this novel of a post. And so sorry that it's such an emotionally heavy post after such a long hiatus here. I just needed to document this part of our lives. I'm never going to forget it. I don't want to, honestly. It was our second baby that we lost. That baby will always be part of our family. We are moving on with our lives, but it doesn't mean we will ever forget the month of May, 2013.
...May 1st I was pregnant. And by June 1st I wasn't. That just plain sucks.
I am totally not fishing for pity by posting this. Let's make that clear. That is not my intention AT ALL. I wanted to post this, like I said, to put the events on "paper". So I wouldn't forget. And I just thought, why the heck not put it on my blog? so, ya.
I really am going to be posting more than once every two years. ha! I miss this blogging community and sharing our lives with the friends I've made from it!
15 hours ago