Okay. I know I said in my last post that I wouldn’t bore you with the details of the past couple of weeks, but I’m up to my ears in grief and don’t know what else to do but let it all out on paper (well, this blog). So here goes… sorry.
My husband and I discovered that we were pregnant via a home pregnancy test on Sunday, May 20th. We were ecstatic to say the least. We just got married in March and I immediately went off birth control. So to have it happen so soon was the best gift ever.
I called my doctor that Monday and made an appointment just to go in and get everything confirmed. The receptionist said that you rarely get a false positives with those tests these days, so “congratulations!” Again, ecstatic.
I went in that Thursday, May 24th. The doctor had me pee in a cup – always fun – and confirmed that I was indeed pregnant. Wanting to see if an ultrasound was an option, we discussed everything and determined that I should be about 5 weeks or so along. Great! Let’s do an ultrasound and find out what’s going on in there.
Ultrasound performed… doctor doesn’t see anything. He looks around a bit more and still nothing. So he tells me that one of three things could be going on: 1) I was pregnant, but the dates had been miscalculated and I wasn’t as far along as we thought, 2) I was pregnant, but it could be an ectopic pregnancy (meaning that I would register as pregnant, but nothing would show on the ultrasound because the embryo had attached itself somewhere outside the uterus), or 3) I was no longer pregnant and my HCG levels just hadn’t come down yet. So he would have to draw blood to test my HCG levels and get back to me. Hubby and I were praying that it was option number one.
The doctor rushed my blood test for me and got back to me the next day, Friday. He said that my levels were only at 221, so I would need to come in again in a few days to do another test. This way they would have some points to draw from. I scheduled another blood test for Tuesday, March 29th.
In the meantime, we had to go to California for my hubby’s great-grandmother’s funeral. I couldn’t drink since I still didn’t know what was going on and had to face numerous inquisitions about that fact that I didn’t even have a glass of champagne at the party. I guess everyone thought I was being disrespectful. No, just having a minor breakdown over what may be going on in my body.
I was set to go to the doctor at lunchtime on the 29th. Right before I left I went to the bathroom – only to discover that I was bleeding. Not light bleeding either. This was heavy duty. I told the doc this when I got there and he said that I was probably having a miscarriage but he’d test my levels to be sure. He rushed them again for me.
The next day, he called to tell me that in spite of the bleeding I’d had the day before, my levels had gone up to 917! That’s awesome news – I may be okay after all. So we scheduled a new appointment for Tuesday June 5th. We would check my levels again and hopefully be able to see something on the ultrasound this time.
Monday, June 4th: we have massive issues with our dog (story for another day) and when I get all that sorted out, I discover I’m bleeding again. Now, I had been spotting since the previous week’s episode, but just lightly and brown in color. TMI I know. But this was heavy again. And it was red. And it freaked me out.
It didn’t stop all night, or the next day – and then the cramping started. I had to wait until 4:30 before my appointment so I just dealt with it as much as I could. Knowing that I probably had lost it. When I got to the doctor’s office, I told him what was going on and he had the look on his face that no one wants to see. Sympathy and sorrow. He did an exam and said there was way too much blood to be normal. He did the ultrasound and said yes, I definitely had a miscarriage. It took all I had not to break down in tears in his office.
On the bright side, my body apparently did a great job of flushing everything out on its own so I wouldn’t need any procedures to help it along. Now I just have to wait for everything to work itself out.
I had to go back to the doctor again today because when they tested my blood, I found out that I’m O-, so a RhoGAM shot was needed to reduce the possibility of any further issues. Hubby has A+ blood, so the baby could potentially have had positive blood as well. Introducing positive blood into my negative type bloodstream could mean that I would develop antibodies against any further pregnancies. Not good. But I got the shot, all should be well.
I’m dealing with this the best I can, but it’s hard. I thought it would be easier since I never even saw a baby, heartbeat, etc. But it’s still just as emotionally scarring. I can’t talk to my fellow March brides on our Facebook page because there are 5 of them that are pregnant and I get heartbroken everytime I see a status that they saw the heartbeat. Or that the baby is perfectly forming. Why couldn’t I be a part of that? What did I do wrong?
As my tears course down my face each morning (the only time I’m alone to deal with my grief), I can’t help but picture what our little family would have been like. I can only hope that I get the chance to try again and that the next time, we will be successful.