This is my story, I’ve never written it all out before but I want to share it, with the hope that one person will feel seen or understood.
I had two children, and was actively trying for a third. I never had an issue getting pregnant and hadn’t suffered a loss. My youngest was just under 2 years old when I found out I was pregnant again. I hastily told all those close to me and started planning for baby number 3. I attended my first prenatal visit, and heard the heartbeat. I told my children to prepare for a new baby. My heart was overjoyed!
A week after my first appointment, my father had a triple bypass heart surgery. I woke up early to be by my parents’ side for the surgery. I took a protein shake and breakfast bar to make sure I was eating well, although I never ate breakfast. I sat in the waiting room from 6am to 11am, and when I took a bathroom break, I saw that I was bleeding. Immediate fear and panic set in. I told my mother who, understandably, was preoccupied with my father’s surgery. I called my midwife, who was not reassuring. I called my husband, who was of no assistance. I had never been in this position before, and at the time I was sure no one had. My mother wanted to go home to rest, so I stayed to be with my father. The bleeding continued, and by the time I went home, I had bled through my jeans. I was in shock, and I collapsed into my husband’s arms as soon as I reached the front door. I knew that my baby was gone. An appointment the next day confirmed that fact.
Since this had been my first loss, I told myself it was normal, and that after three pregnancies, it was bound to happen. Others told me that perhaps the baby wasn’t viable, or that I was under too much stress. It all seemed logical to me.
I took around 6 months to heal from this loss. I grieved, I wrote, I held my children tight. Then I decided to try again. I got a positive pregnancy test, and went into the same state of excitement and joy, thinking surely we wouldn’t have the same outcome. After all, the statistics were one in four, and I had already experienced a loss, so there was no need to be cautious here. I made my appointment, but this time I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want to hear their comments and responses. I knew to protect myself from that. I went to my appointment when I should have been 8 weeks pregnant, and there was a sack, but no heartbeat. I was told not to be alarmed. That sometimes it’s just too early, and we could try again next week. We did HCG blood draws every other day at my local hospital, and the levels were falling, instead of doubling as expected with a healthy pregnancy. This worried me. When I returned, there was still no heartbeat. I would lose another baby, and we had no reason why this time. The doctor told me I should see a fertility doctor so that if I get pregnant again they can help me. So I did, and on my first visit they took 17 vials of blood. The doctor gave me an idea. Sometimes, he said, if you get pregnant again right away, it can help sustain the pregnancy.
So, I decided to try it, and within two cycles I was pregnant again! I was getting blood draws every 2-3 days, watching my levels double, seeing a heartbeat, and, under the care of an experienced doctor, I knew this time would be okay. But at 10 weeks, the heartbeat disappeared. I thought, I cannot go on. My doctor said, a very small percentage of women, at the time less than 5%, experienced secondary recurrent miscarriage. We had found no answers, I was sure there was something wrong with me, and I was heartbroken beyond belief. I saw a rheumatologist, and a hematologist, and I had an HSG. An HSG is where, under X-ray, a dye is put through your reproductive organs to see if there is a blockage. Nothing manifested. We did ultrasounds to check my eggs and ovulation timing, and nothing was wrong with me on paper. My husband at the time had his sperm checked, and nothing out of the ordinary showed up there either.
The worst part of the pain for me was not being able to explain it. There was no understandable reason why I lost them, just that they weren’t here anymore. I had to know. I was completely obsessed with finding the reason, while simultaneously feeling like a bad mother for not just focusing on the two children I’d already been blessed with.
After taking a couple of months off, I began to take Clomid and progesterone shots. Although I never had a problem getting pregnant, we were trying all we could at this point to solve this phenomenon. I found out I was pregnant again in August, and this time I didn’t tell anyone, not even my closest friends. I didn’t get out of bed, other than to go to my blood draws, and take my suppositories. I wasn’t going to risk anything, this baby was going to live and make it. I heard the heartbeat, and I made it to 12 weeks. I thought we had finally done it, and I started to live my life again. Trigger warning: this is the part of my story that is the most hard to retell, and I still live with PTSD from this moment.. At 14 weeks, I went to Nordstrom rack with my family, and I knew something was wrong. I knew the feeling, and I went to the restroom. It was there that I delivered my 14 week old baby into a public restroom toilet. I was in shock. There were women knocking on the door, and I didn’t know what to do. I left the restroom to find my family waiting for me by the door. I was sobbing, but I made it to the car. We took the kids to get some food, and I stood up to realize I was bleeding uncontrollably. My jeans were soaked within 30 seconds, so I sat on a reusable grocery bag. My parents met us to get the kids, and I went to the emergency room. I had to have a procedure done there in the emergency room to stop the bleeding. After this, I couldn’t hear the sound of the suction at the dentist’s office for years. I didn’t use a public restroom for almost a year. I went into a deep depression. I stayed in bed for months. I gave up on trying, and I cried and cried and cried. I wrote poems, I mourned for all of my children. I became a shell of myself. I was envious of anyone I saw that was pregnant.
It took me almost a full year to recover from that loss. Maybe I still haven’t. But something reawakened in me, and I still wanted answers as to why. I decided to find a different doctor, just to ask him if he had any ideas I had never considered trying. I met this doctor, and he somehow seemed so confident. He said he knew exactly what to do. He read all of my files and was so sure he could help me. I was pregnant three months later! I needed a combination of thyroid medicine, steroids, and progesterone to help me sustain this pregnancy. I was paralyzed with fear, and I had nightmares of waking up and no longer being pregnant. I was under the care of a reproductive endocrinologist and I also saw a maternal fetal medicine doctor every other week. At each appointment, I rejoiced at the offering of an ultrasound and seeing a healthy baby. At 20 weeks, I finally told others of my joy. I was able to have my rainbow baby in November 2013, and, though I still don’t know why or what caused my losses, I remember them every day. I carry them with me.
