I don’t want to use this place as a journal. Nothing good really comes of that, so I’m not going to go there. But I do believe in being open about things, because someone else might be out there struggling, too. There’s never an easy way to go through hard times … literally why we call them hard times. It’s hard.
Last fall, I got pregnant for the second time. I wasn’t nearly as sick as the first time, but I was still filled with trepidation. We waited a couple extra weeks before taking the pregnancy test. Then we waited another week before calling the hospital to have a test done to confirm. At 7 weeks along, we had a dating ultrasound and everything looked great. Already I had made it farther than before, but still we didn’t want anyone to know. We didn’t want to let ourselves start to hope. Around 9 weeks I told my jobs, because I was starting to feel really run down and rather queasy. I never got sick, but I felt on the verge of it for months. By 11 weeks we told my parents. Then gradually we told more and more people. By the end of 12 weeks, we started discussing names, and at my 14 week appointment, when my DR said everything looked perfect, we started getting excited.
At 16 weeks I miscarried. Again.
Miscarriage at 16 weeks is crushing for a few reasons. Obviously, you’re no longer getting the baby that you had hoped for. You’re blindsided because you were supposedly in the “safe zone”. There’s doubt of whether you’ll ever be able to carry to term. Anxiety about the wasted time and the ticking clock (hello 32, I see you on the horizon there). But there’s also the pain of actually going through labor. And then also, not having a baby at the end of that labor. The afternoon surgery I had with the first miscarriage couldn’t be done at the local hospital. I’d have to travel over an hour to a specialist up north to have a D & E performed at 16 weeks. It would have been a 2 day procedure, and the risk of damage to the uterus was increased over the previous one. So, we chose to go through labor. Since we still do want kids, we want to give any future pregnancies the best chance possible.
The nurses were great, but that was the single worst day of my life so far. I have never been in so much pain. I had bruising from the IV and blood draws for two weeks after. I couldn’t climb stairs for two days. And only now, two and a half weeks later, do I feel normal, no lingering twinges, or other pains.
I’m still working through the emotional pain of it all. I’m not sure when or if that really goes away.