Day 78

!!!!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!!! TOPIC: MISCARRIAGE

When my first doctor’s appointment approached, I should have been around 8 weeks according to my tracker. My husband and I drove all the way to Charleston for my appointment. I had been with my OBGYN since I was 20 years old and I had no intentions of changing. I was excited to hear our baby’s heartbeat and see the growth of our little jellybean. Legs propped up; we were ready to see the love growing inside of me! When the technician did my ultrasound, I was perplexed because all I saw was a white spot and she seemed confused herself. She went on to explain that I was just a lot earlier than anticipated and that was normal. My doctor confirmed this and told me that by looking at my ultrasound, everything seemed fine and there was nothing to worry about. Being a first-time mom, I was confident in my doctor and was hopeful that by my next appointment we would hear a heartbeat and see a little tadpole on the screen.

Two weeks later, we were back in Charleston – no change. At this point, I am starting to get angry. It had been 4 weeks since I found out I was pregnant, and no one could tell me how far along I was and why my baby was not growing. My husband, being the patient man he is, told me that everything would be fine and not to stress myself out. We continued to pray and have faith that things would work out. Deep down, I knew something was wrong and could sense that my doctor knew it too.

The next week, I went back so they could draw blood and check my HCG levels. As I sat in the doctor’s office waiting to be seen, I looked at the other women who had big round bellies and wondered why I had to be having issues early on. 1 in 4 women miscarry their first child and I hoped I did not have to be that 1. Although I did not know their stories or what it took for them to carry a child, I wondered if they realized how blessed they were to make it to their current stage in pregnancy. They looked so happy. As time went on, leading up to my next appointment, I felt myself becoming jealous every time I saw a pregnant woman or woman with a newborn. Although it was small, I had faith that my baby would be okay; but I could not shake the heaviness my heart felt. Morning sickness was not something that I had deal with, but I was desperate for evident signs that my baby was okay and progressing. I wished I had morning sickness. I wished that I was extremely tired every day. The only sign I had that kept my hope alive were tender breast, and even that started to fade.

That same week I went to have blood drawn to check my HCG levels, I had some light bleeding and cramping and decided to go the hospital. After waiting for about 6 hours to be seen – yes, 6 hours, I was escorted back and given another ultrasound. The doctor told me that my pregnancy was either going to turn around and my baby would be fine, or it could be a blighted ovum, meaning my baby had consumed itself and I would miscarry. Of course, my husband and I continued to pray and I continued to take it easy and tried not to stress myself out but I was desperate for God to step in at the last minute and perform a miracle. I did not care if my child came out being a “special needs” child, I wanted them.

The following week, we were back in Charleston and once again, no change in my ultrasound. It took everything I had in me to hold back tears looking at the ultrasound. I could not even look at my husband. I felt embarrassed and ashamed. On top of the problems we were facing in our marriage, now, I cannot even carry a baby full term. I felt like the most important pieces of my life were slipping away. My doctor confirmed what we already knew – my HGC levels dropped significantly and I was bound to have a miscarriage.

Words cannot describe the amount of defeat and hurt my heart harbored. So many unanswered questions – How far along was I? Why isn’t our baby growing? What went wrong? Why me? So many emotions. My doctor wrote me a prescription to speed up the miscarriage. When I returned home, I took the medicine and about an hour later, I felt a pain jolt through my abdomen and wetness between my legs. When I went to the bathroom all I saw was red. My heart ached. It was time to give our baby back to God. As I sat on the toilet and felt my child’s life leave my body, I understood how women got “stuck” after the loss of a child because a part of me felt myself slipping away too.

I would have done anything to save my pregnancy if I could have. My heart not only ached for the loss of my child in that moment, but every woman that experienced this loss; especially those who had to endure this pain more than once.

For 78 days, I was gifted the opportunity to house a life for whatever purpose God had in mind. For 78 days, someone tugged at my heartstrings and needed my love. For 78 days, that someone gave me love that I did not know I needed, even if it was for a little while. For 78 days, I got to be a mommy.