It's been over a year. My last post was May 1st, 2024. So, it's been a year.
A lot has changed, but nothing at the same time. Does that even make sense? In my head it does.
This would be my third pregnancy loss. And, it started today. What's worse... I found out that I was pregnant on Mother's Day. How cruel is that?
The first was an ectopic pregnancy that I discovered in January of 2023 at 7, almost 8 weeks along. The pregnancy was a shock. We weren't really trying, though we had talked about trying. We had even started the process of working with fertility specialists. And during that journey my Ob/GYN advised me that I had uterine polyps that needed to be surgically removed.
Let me back up, and start at the beginning. And bear with me. The thoughts shared here previously have nothing and yet everything to do with why I'm here writing this today.
It's hard to believe that something isn't for you when you have this gut feeling that it's exactly where you're supposed to be. Either way, we are here now and we will keep moving forward.
It was Summer 2022 and my partner and I had begun seeking answers to our abilities to have children. It was fun at first, and then I received some news that was ehhh. I say ehh because it wasn't bad, but it also wasn't good. I'd say at best it was indifferent. My Ob/GYN advised me that I had uterine polyps that needed to be surgically removed, however, my follicles and ovarian reserve was amazing (17 follicles were found to be exact, which was profoundly high for my age), and all medical markers for health concerns was practically non-existent. (My mother has T2D and hypertension, and my dad has hypertension and A-Fib), and while obesity existed as well, all of my blood work indicated that I was otherwise a healthy 32 year old woman.
So we forged forward with the removal surgery. My partner was there when I came out of surgery, and he was ready to do whatever he needed to get me across the recovery finish line.
We silently agreed that we'd actively begin try. However tracking ovulation, or other specific TTC actions were not taken, nor was it at the forefront of our minds.
And then December 2022 came around, and with it, a series of mysterious bodily events. Vivid pregnancy dreams. Sick with some type of cold every two weeks. Random bouts of nausea. Dizziness I associated with dehydration. Unexplained cravings. Consistent aversions to coffee and ginger ale. And bleeding. Yes, bleeding. It was weird because I couldn't understand why every two weeks I was spotting/bleeding. I really chalked it up to the cold that was sending my body for a thrill ride and didn't feel it was necessary to say anything to anyone except my partner.
I called my doctor (at my partners urgency), and she treated me for what she could diagnose - a cold turned bronchitis.
I was out of work on holiday break (December 22nd - January 4th), and woke up that morning in a relatively high level of pain. It was a 12 on a scale of 1 - 10. And it felt like with every breath, someone was taking a screwdriver and drilling holes into my pelvis. It was awful.
I was hallucinating, nauseous, lethargic, running a temp, grinding my teeth. I also paced the small apartment, shuffling my feet across the floor and tracing a steady path from the bedroom, to the living room, to the kitchen and back to the bedroom to simply try to ease the pain. I called my partner who was already at work and told him I needed to go to the ER. His route for work that day took him up to Greenfield MA, so he was no where near home to take me. And so to avoid the dreaded ambulatory transport bill, I called my dad and asked him if he could take me.
I don't quite remember how long he took to pick me up, or how long we waited in the ER before they began triage, but it seemed like an eternity. When you're in that much pain, there's nothing that can make it better. You just want the pain gone.
After multiple tests - blood work, urine sample, vitals - the nurses admitted me and put me on a bed in the hallway. This was our 2nd COVID winter, so the ER was PACKED. And just when I couldn't bear it anymore, relief came in the form of a single low dose of morphine. However, not before the nurse shared the exciting news with me that I was pregnant.
Well, we all know how. But how, like how, we weren't even really trying.
You know when your stomach knots, and sinks to your ass? Yea, I got that immediate concerning feeling. That undeniable gut wrenching feeling that something was not right.
And what happened next was a whirlwind of ultrasounds, and doctors yapping about what happens when a fertilized egg implants in a Fallopian tube. After a while it could be life-threatening. The growing embryo also could not be saved.
I can't quite remember what emotions I felt. But it was a cacophony of them.
I kept hearing that I was lucky. Lucky because I was really far along, but not far enough that the tube had ruptured. I was lucky because I was still young enough to keep trying for a baby.
Yea, I mean we could because that was the reality. But you can't simply move forward that quick. The trauma and devastation doesn't allow you to forget the heartbreak, confusion, sadness, anguish, guilt, anger and disappointment that easily.
And so after a laparoscopic right tubal ligation, I was sent home to recover with my partner by my side.
Exactly one cycle later, I was pregnant again. When they say it can happen fast, believe it. And again, it wasn't like we were tracking and actively trying. However, it happened.
We were over the moon happy. I however, was immediately filled with anxiety because was this another ectopic? Because of the previous risk, I was immediately referred to Maternal and Fetal Medicine (which I later discovered was high-risk obstetrics and gynecological medical care). My entire medical care team was excellent, methodical and informative, even after it was confirmed at our 8 week ultrasound that the pregnancy would result in a loss because of the absence of a fetal pole (heartbeat).
And so devastation set in. I'll spare you the disturbing and traumatic details of this miscarriage because you think an ectopic is bad? Try having to medically force your body into giving birth to an empty sac, yoke and uncountable amounts of blood clots that once formed an embryo. Contractions and all.
That was March 2023. By May 2023, my partner and I separated because we couldn't emotionally navigate the experience after the loss. By September 2023, I was jobless, in my first apartment ever, and scared shitless. By December 2023, I was newly employed, and just taking it all day by day, healing and learning and growing. And by May 2024, my partner and I decided to resume our relationship. June 2024 I moved into my new apartment. September 2024, I started my first full academic year with my employer. December 2024 were the best holiday's I had since winter 2018. And Mothers Day 2025, I discovered I was pregnant for the third time.
Anxiety, fear, sadness and concern didn't exist this time. It was all replaced with happiness and certainty that I would be okay. We would be okay. This pregnancy was going to be okay.
So now, lets go back to the top. It was only 12 days later that we discovered I'd be miscarrying again. hCG had stopped doubling, and progesterone had started decreasing. And we were a wreck. Again.
This time though, I can actually formulate just a part of what's been rolling around in my mind.
After suffering multiple losses, you discover a few things about yourself and your journey. You don't want to hear God allows everything for a reason. You don't want to hear don't blame yourself. You also don't want people to tell you to shift your focus to improving yourself. Don't tell me you can always try again. Don't tell me to be thankful and that it could be worse. Don't tell me maybe the time wasn't right. Because it's grief. "It's love with no where to go." And no amount of time or words can diminish the pain. I think everyone can agree that the sentiments to healing stem from simply wanting to see your loved one not be in pain and experience such deep heartbreak.
But here's the secret: just hold space for us. No, we don't want encouragement. Don't try to reason, or explain, provide logic or control the process. Just ask if they need anything. Ask to hang out. And simply say you're so sorry.
#grief #loss #triggerwarning #miscarriage #ectopic #pregnancy #navigatingloss #navigatinghealing
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