You know what word I have come to hate?
Miscarriage.
It implies that I somehow mishandled or incorrectly carried or dropped my baby, when the truth is that I sobbed uncontrollably to find there was nothing I could do about my baby no longer having a heartbeat.
"Miscarriage" makes it sound like I didn't care, when in fact I care so much that my heart physically hurts, and I can hardly get through an hour without tearing up.
That word makes it sound like I was a bad mother who put other things first or didn't do what I was supposed to, when in reality, I willingly and (almost) without complaint gave up eating foods I like that are not recommended, forced myself to take horse pill vitamins that made me nauseous, trained myself to sleep on the recommended side for best blood flow to the baby, stopped having intercourse when the spotting began, didn't button up my favorite jeans to keep things roomy for Baby, and innumerable other things. I put Baby first.
That stupid word conveys nothing of the distress, the physical and emotional torment, the disappointment, the empty space, or the loss of the actual event it supposedly describes.
I can hardly even say it anymore.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Saturday, December 22, 2012
2012
5 months of actively trying to get pregnant
20 weeks of pregnancy
17 weeks of bleeding
2-3 miscarriages
0 babies
Those numbers seem off.
20 weeks of pregnancy
17 weeks of bleeding
2-3 miscarriages
0 babies
Those numbers seem off.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Empty
We recently bought a house. It's still in escrow. We bought it because we are currently in a 2 BD/ 2 BATH condo and knew we wanted more space. A yard would make our dog and our little boy very happy, and another bedroom would mean space for our new addition. I was already envisioning how there was plenty of room in the master suite for a bassinet for our tiny baby, and I was toying with ideas for what to do with the third bedroom once the baby was a few months old, and we were ready to move him/her into his/her own room.
Now I can hardly think about the house. All I can see is that empty corner of the master suite where I wanted to put a bassinet. The empty third bedroom into which we will not soon be moving a changing table and crib. The high chair that will stand unused in the kitchen for an indeterminate period of time. The baby toys we have kept although our son has outgrown them that will continue to be boxed up and out of sight. I can hardly get up the gumption to sort our things and begin to pack.
Now I can hardly think about the house. All I can see is that empty corner of the master suite where I wanted to put a bassinet. The empty third bedroom into which we will not soon be moving a changing table and crib. The high chair that will stand unused in the kitchen for an indeterminate period of time. The baby toys we have kept although our son has outgrown them that will continue to be boxed up and out of sight. I can hardly get up the gumption to sort our things and begin to pack.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Bad News
I recently read a book, The Defining Decade: Why Your Twenties Matter--And How to Make the Most of Them Now, by Meg Jay. She mentioned that a woman is roughly half as fertile by thirty as she was at twenty, a quarter as fertile at forty, and only an eighth as fertile at forty-five. It struck me that in our world of constantly pushing back things like schooling, starting careers, marriage, and families, this could make things somewhat more difficult.
I have never been the kind of girl to take lots of time with those things. I decided in the second grade that I wanted to be a teacher, and 21 years later, that's what I am. I always thought ahead. I remember someone asking me in fourth grade why I worked so hard and took extra math lessons with my teacher to get ahead, and I told them it was important to me that I get into a good college someday. Clearly, I didn't understand what grades colleges actually care about.
I took AP classes in high school to get out of some GE requirements in college, took independent study and extra classes during the summer, and I graduated college with a major in Education, a minor in TESOL, and a teaching certificate. I was 21 and ready to change the world. Seven years later, I am department chair, a teacher mentor, and I love my job. I love my students, I love my coworkers, and I can't believe I got so lucky. I went back to school nights, and I am getting my masters in digital learning this spring.
Between high school and college, I dated a few guys seriously and many guys less seriously, and when I found one that wanted the same things I did from life, made me happy, loved his family, knew how to work hard, and was hilarious, I married him. We bought a condo and a dog when I was 22. It wasn't too many years before we felt ready to start having kids.
At 25, I gave birth to our son. It was a fairly textbook pregnancy--I had morning sickness but only for a few weeks, he grew a little slowly, but he was almost 7 pounds when he was born and perfectly healthy. He is the light of my life. He is now two and opinionated and interested in everything.
Last holiday season, we decided it was time to try for number two. In March, I thought I was pregnant, but I ended up bleeding for two weeks, so if I was, it was very short-lived. In May, I tested positive on an at-home test, but just three weeks later, I had a miscarriage. It was within a few weeks of my grandma dying, my other grandma being diagnosed with cancer, and my sister's wedding. It was a crazy time. While I was disappointed, I kept it to myself because everyone around me was so busy with other things. At my follow-up appointment, they found a cyst that they worried might be a tumor, but it went away and everything seemed fine. We got the go-ahead to try again.
I was afraid of losing another baby because losing our baby at 8 weeks along in June had been so devastating, but I read that 90% of women who have a miscarriage go on to have a healthy pregnancy.
In October, we found out that I was pregnant again. I was nervous but tried to do everything right. I took vitamins, exercised moderately, ate lots of fruits and vegetables and lean protein, and took it easy at work. Once I passed eight weeks along, I started to feel less worried.
Then I started spotting at ten weeks. I called the doctor after a few days, and they did an ultrasound that revealed that I had a small subchorionic hemorrhage. They said it should be fine and to call only if the bleeding got heavy or red or was accompanied by cramping. I continued spotting for almost a month. At my nearly 14-week appointment, they were surprised that I was still spotting, but we heard a heartbeat, and they congratulated me on reaching the second trimester and said everything should probably be fine.
Yesterday, just five days after my appointment, my spotting turned into bleeding, and I started feeling vaguely uncomfortable tightness across my abdomen. I called the doctor this morning and got in during their only free appointment slot. They did an external ultrasound, but there was no heartbeat. When the doctor called in another for a second opinion, I knew we were about to get bad news. They said the baby's head was somewhat misshapen and that it was no longer alive. They assumed it was a chromosomal anomaly and sent me off to decide if I wanted a D & C.
I was devastated. My husband and I cried into one another's shoulders for a long time. We decided to go back to work rather than go home and sulk. Plus, I had promised one of my classes a celebration today in honor of their completion of the second edition of our school newspaper and meeting our first yearbook deadline in a timely manner.
I had no idea that everything would happen so fast. My cramping got worse and worse over the next few hours until I broke out into a cold sweat and had to sit in the back of my classroom while students worked on a silent activity. At one point I stood up, and a huge gush of fluid ran down my legs. Thank goodness I was wearing a long skirt and not pants, or I could not have walked around like a normal person at all. I called the office for someone to watch my students, and I went to the bathroom, where I had to deal with everything alone. I cried as my 2.5 inch baby fell into the water, and I had to break the umbilical cord. Maybe I should have handled it differently, but I could hardly think for all the emotions I had rushing through me. I managed to clean up somewhat and get back to class for the last twenty minutes of the day before going home to shower and then pick up my son. The next few hours were torture. I have never had such a traumatic experience in my life, and I would wish it on no one.
I just keep thinking, it was almost 15 weeks. It was supposed to be safe now. We have already told our parents, siblings and closest friends. I just typed up our news into the family Christmas letter; thank goodness I didn't send it yet.
I have never been the kind of girl to take lots of time with those things. I decided in the second grade that I wanted to be a teacher, and 21 years later, that's what I am. I always thought ahead. I remember someone asking me in fourth grade why I worked so hard and took extra math lessons with my teacher to get ahead, and I told them it was important to me that I get into a good college someday. Clearly, I didn't understand what grades colleges actually care about.
I took AP classes in high school to get out of some GE requirements in college, took independent study and extra classes during the summer, and I graduated college with a major in Education, a minor in TESOL, and a teaching certificate. I was 21 and ready to change the world. Seven years later, I am department chair, a teacher mentor, and I love my job. I love my students, I love my coworkers, and I can't believe I got so lucky. I went back to school nights, and I am getting my masters in digital learning this spring.
Between high school and college, I dated a few guys seriously and many guys less seriously, and when I found one that wanted the same things I did from life, made me happy, loved his family, knew how to work hard, and was hilarious, I married him. We bought a condo and a dog when I was 22. It wasn't too many years before we felt ready to start having kids.
At 25, I gave birth to our son. It was a fairly textbook pregnancy--I had morning sickness but only for a few weeks, he grew a little slowly, but he was almost 7 pounds when he was born and perfectly healthy. He is the light of my life. He is now two and opinionated and interested in everything.
Last holiday season, we decided it was time to try for number two. In March, I thought I was pregnant, but I ended up bleeding for two weeks, so if I was, it was very short-lived. In May, I tested positive on an at-home test, but just three weeks later, I had a miscarriage. It was within a few weeks of my grandma dying, my other grandma being diagnosed with cancer, and my sister's wedding. It was a crazy time. While I was disappointed, I kept it to myself because everyone around me was so busy with other things. At my follow-up appointment, they found a cyst that they worried might be a tumor, but it went away and everything seemed fine. We got the go-ahead to try again.
I was afraid of losing another baby because losing our baby at 8 weeks along in June had been so devastating, but I read that 90% of women who have a miscarriage go on to have a healthy pregnancy.
In October, we found out that I was pregnant again. I was nervous but tried to do everything right. I took vitamins, exercised moderately, ate lots of fruits and vegetables and lean protein, and took it easy at work. Once I passed eight weeks along, I started to feel less worried.
Then I started spotting at ten weeks. I called the doctor after a few days, and they did an ultrasound that revealed that I had a small subchorionic hemorrhage. They said it should be fine and to call only if the bleeding got heavy or red or was accompanied by cramping. I continued spotting for almost a month. At my nearly 14-week appointment, they were surprised that I was still spotting, but we heard a heartbeat, and they congratulated me on reaching the second trimester and said everything should probably be fine.
Yesterday, just five days after my appointment, my spotting turned into bleeding, and I started feeling vaguely uncomfortable tightness across my abdomen. I called the doctor this morning and got in during their only free appointment slot. They did an external ultrasound, but there was no heartbeat. When the doctor called in another for a second opinion, I knew we were about to get bad news. They said the baby's head was somewhat misshapen and that it was no longer alive. They assumed it was a chromosomal anomaly and sent me off to decide if I wanted a D & C.
I was devastated. My husband and I cried into one another's shoulders for a long time. We decided to go back to work rather than go home and sulk. Plus, I had promised one of my classes a celebration today in honor of their completion of the second edition of our school newspaper and meeting our first yearbook deadline in a timely manner.
I had no idea that everything would happen so fast. My cramping got worse and worse over the next few hours until I broke out into a cold sweat and had to sit in the back of my classroom while students worked on a silent activity. At one point I stood up, and a huge gush of fluid ran down my legs. Thank goodness I was wearing a long skirt and not pants, or I could not have walked around like a normal person at all. I called the office for someone to watch my students, and I went to the bathroom, where I had to deal with everything alone. I cried as my 2.5 inch baby fell into the water, and I had to break the umbilical cord. Maybe I should have handled it differently, but I could hardly think for all the emotions I had rushing through me. I managed to clean up somewhat and get back to class for the last twenty minutes of the day before going home to shower and then pick up my son. The next few hours were torture. I have never had such a traumatic experience in my life, and I would wish it on no one.
I just keep thinking, it was almost 15 weeks. It was supposed to be safe now. We have already told our parents, siblings and closest friends. I just typed up our news into the family Christmas letter; thank goodness I didn't send it yet.
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