A Hard Year

I toyed with the idea of writing this post multiple times. I don’t tend to get very personal on my blog, so it’s always a very scary thing to bare your soul to the world, especially about a topic that is so emotional. However, I have read quite a few posts from fellow bloggers describing their experiences and it made me feel so much better and less alone. It made me realize that I could maybe do that for someone else who has gone through a similar experience, while also being extremely cathartic for me.

I had a missed miscarriage last year.

It was probably the worst experience {to date} of my life. I have never been the same. I doubt I ever will be. It was soul shattering and heart breaking. It stays with you.

I remember my hands trembling as I looked at the positive pregnancy test. I couldn’t believe it. My husband and I had just decided to start trying to conceive, when it up and happened on our first go. Funny thing is, I knew it. I remember waking up that morning and getting in my car to go run some errands, and something just felt…different. I had not missed a period yet. I didn’t have any symptoms. I just knew I was pregnant. I finished my errands, and added an extra stop: Target for some pregnancy tests. When I stared at that result, I was so shocked at my intuition. How could I already have some sort of connection to whatever was inside me? I never thought I would be the kind of girl that would. In fact, I was always terrified of being a parent (still am) because I’ve always been selfish, and to some extent, wild and free. I didn’t know how that would translate into being a mother, but these new feels made me think maybe I wouldn’t be so bad after all.

My husband was beside himself with excitement. We were so excited that we blurted out the news almost immediately to our close circle of friends. They bought us gifts, I bought us gifts. I anxiously awaited our first ultrasound at 6 weeks, and could not believe my eyes when I saw that tiny peanut floating inside me. We made something. Together. My heart swelled to unbelievable proportions – I had never felt more happiness in all my life. We told our families next – we were greeted by happy tears and tight hugs. I felt closer to all of them than ever before. It felt…like magic.

Then I had an insurance mix up, which caused us to not be scheduled for another ultrasound until I was 10 weeks. I continued with my day to day, so happy that I was only experiencing fatigue instead of intense morning sickness or any of the other terrible symptoms I had read about. Then one day, I’d say at about 9 weeks, something felt wrong. It kind of felt like the light that seemingly was inside of me had been blown out. I rushed to CVS at about 10pm one night to pick up more pregnancy tests. I had to know if I was still pregnant. I remember telling my husband not to judge my craziness – because I must be crazy, right? I mean, I wasn’t bleeding or cramping, I felt fine. I just had…a feeling. I took multiple tests and they came back positive, but no relief came.

I will never forget that moment. The moment my doctor could not find my baby using the transabdominal doppler, and had to switch to the transvaginal. My heart started racing. He stayed quiet as my baby appeared on the screen, seemingly small, blurry and still. And then he uttered words that sounded like I was hearing them from underwater, “there is barely a heartbeat and no growth since week 8. There is no good way to say this…this pregnancy will not continue.” Everything that was said afterwards was not heard. I could not believe that the nightmare I had been having for a week was coming true. I have to wake up. This isn’t really happening.

But it was.

I was scheduled for a D&C later that week, and went home. I felt cold and alone. Nothing can compare to the thought of something – YOUR something – dying inside of you and being completely helpless to stop it. After my procedure, I was numb. I spent most of my days laying on my couch silent, watching movies and TV shows that, again, felt like they were playing underwater. Flowers filled my house, which at first moved me, and then made me feel like I was living in a funeral home. It really felt like someone had died. And that someone was mine and I’d never meet them, touch them or hold them. I cried. Endlessly.

Then I entered the next phase: Why? Why did this happen to me? I was pregnant at the same time as many of my other friends and I felt myself enraged and jealous (two things I don’t feel often). I blocked all my pregnant friends on social media because just the sight of their happy smiles and big bellies made me feel like shit. I did everything right. Everything you are “supposed” to do. I had to have done something wrong. I know. I ate something that one day that I’m allergic to. That’s what did it. I killed my baby. I’m so dumb – just because I was hungry and didn’t think. I ruined everything.

And then…it was Mother’s Day. And I was asked when I was planning on finally having a baby by a family member that did not know. I excused myself from the table and bawled hysterically in the bathroom. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. It was a kind of raw, emotional cry I had never experienced in my life. I had to come clean and then felt like I ruined my entire family’s holiday. I literally had to be walked up and down the neighborhood as I choked on my own tears and gasped for breath. I had never felt so out of control and endlessly sad.

Sad. Such a simple word, but that’s what I felt. This immense sadness consumed me. It made me question my life and what I was doing with it. It made me have wild ideas and turned me into someone I am not. I pushed everyone away that I loved, very slowly, but very surely. I realize now that I should have gotten help because I was very clearly depressed. However, my mind and body finally decided to fight back and it wasn’t until December of this past year that I decided to jump on this crazy train again: lets try to conceive. And just 2 months later, I was pregnant again. But this time, staring at that positive pregnancy test brought me immediate fear and anxiety.

My miscarriage robbed me of happiness surrounding a pregnancy, which I always feared it would. It is still very much unfair. I fly into moments of pure anxiety days before my ultrasounds fearing the absolute worst. Seeing my baby on the screen: lifeless. Despite moving into my 2nd trimester, the fear has not left my side, but I have realized something. I did nothing wrong. These terrible, awful things just happen. It’s not because of something you did or karma or what have you. Now looking back, I notice that maybe I had to go through all those terrible feelings and almost rip my life apart, to realize what I truly had. There was so much happiness and love, and now I see it brighter than ever. Now, when this baby is staying. Now, when it should be.

This has taught me to not be insensitive – that people are hurting even when they seem happy.
That you are not alone.
You are not to blame.

I sometimes look around, and feel overwhelmed with happiness. I appreciate every little moment because I remember what it was like to lose something special and to purposely destroy the rest. I think of it as the gift that my first little nugget gave me even though they couldn’t stay. Every joy feels that much more special, every small gesture that much more meaningful.

But…that could be my pregnancy hormones.