Waiting for my Rainbow

Christmas was really nice this year. Andrew's family decided to cancel the big family dinner, due to snow (and no parking spaces), so we were able to go down earlier and have dinner with them. His mom and I ended up getting a bit drunk off of the wine. The whole evening was very enjoyable and gift giving was very fun this year. Everyone seemed pretty happy with their presents.

Near the end of the evening, it became less enjoyable. A string of small disasters led up to me having a nuclear meltdown at home later. A little before we were leaving I felt one of my earings and it was missing the stone in it. No big deal, I can just buy new earings...they were cheap anyway. Then we get in the car and start to drive, realizing that for some reason my door isn't latching. Andrew and his dad tried to figure out what was wrong but ended up having to tie it shut. I sat in the back seat on the way home, which was strange, but I tried to make light of the situation though Andrew seemed a little grumpy. After we got home I was getting ready for bed, taking my jewelry off, and I dropped my wedding ring and band. The ring fell on my vanity but I couldn't find the band. I started looking for it and when I couldn't find it right away, I became frantic. I searched in all the pockets of my make-up bag, all the drawers of my jewelry box, all over the floor and in the vent. Andrew joined in my search and had no better luck. Then I started crying and continued to frantically search until I ended up throwing things of my vanity.

Andrew was very gentle and told me to calm down, at which point I layed down on the floor and just started bawling. He continued to search for my wedding band while I told him how depressing life was. It's bad enough that my child was taken from me but life had to continue throwing these little irritating situations on me. If God exists he hates me. He doesn't want me to be happy. I'm not supposed to have a child and losing my wedding band was a "sign" that I'm not supposed to have a happy marriage either. If He is only supposed to give us as much as we can handle, then I can't handle anymore and I should just give up now. I think that might have been the single most depressing moment of my life after the miscarriage, which obviously contributed to how I was feeling. That and the wine...

Just when I was feeling like everything was hopeless, Andrew sat on the floor next to me and handed me my wedding band. "Where did you find it?!" "In one of the drawers of your jewelry box." "But I looked in there and didn't see it. How did it even get in there?" He didn't know how it got in there either but that's where he found it. "I guess I am supposed to be with you. You help me when things are hard." He agreed and told me he would always be there. (Or something like that).

It was Christmas the next day and I told him I was sorry for being crazy. It's just when you are so emotionally fragile, it doesn't take much to set you off. We had a great breakfast of ham, eggs, and toast. Then we unwrapped the presents we bought ourselves (I just wanted something to open on Christmas) and relaxed on the couch the rest of the morning. We went to my mom's that afternoon for a late lunch and met her new boyfriend, Tim. He's nice. After dinner we played some Wii Sports Resort and drank beer. Tim had never played the Wii so it was funny to see him and my mom play. We tried playing the Mario Bros. for the Wii, but they had no idea what was going on. Old people. :)

Yesterday we took my car in to the shop where it miraculously fixed itself. They said they couldn't find anything wrong so they think it was just frozen. Frozen for four days? Still popping open on the drive there (it was tied shut but every bump and turn it would ding at me that it wasn't closed)? Then fixes itself? I'm glad it's fine but it was very frustrating. We also bought a new Christmas tree for next year. 50% off at Walmart. It's quite a big bigger than the one we borrowed from my mom; we are going to have to do a lot of rearranging to fit it in next year. Hopefully that won't be the only reason to rearrange. Hopefully next year we will be celebrating our new baby's first Christmas. We'll see how things go come February...

It was a pretty nice Christmas season overall, though it definitely had a darker mood about it than previous Christmases (for me). Obviously a lot of it has to do with my sadness about losing the baby, which still affects me deeply. I've had very few nights of restful sleep, even though the baby/children dreams are mostly gone. I have been having a lot of dreams where I am in horrible and difficult situations that often result in my death. I also had an 11 day period which didn't help with it's mood swings. I'm still waiting to feel normal again, and even though I do have days of normalcy, normal isn't the same as it used to be. Normal is me with a piece missing. I'll never get that piece back. For the most part it's life as usual, I still just have my days...my set-backs. I wish I didn't have them, but they are getting fewer and farther between and I'd like to think they are helping me understand a lot about myself. I can honestly say that I'm pretty happy with life right for now. I'm very lucky to have a few close friends, supportive family, and my loving husband, who I couldn't live without.

Saturday night we went down to see Andrew's parents. We hadn't seen them since we lost the baby and we didn't want to wait until Christmas; we didn't want that to be the first day we talked to them about it in person. It's easier talking about it now. I thought it would be harder because I haven't talked to them since the miscarriage, but it wasn't. We told them about what happned, what's next, and when we are going to start trying again and his mom said she would pray for us.

I realized that waiting is the hardest part. I want to have a baby to hold in my arms so badly but I know my body still needs to heal in order for that to happen. I'm on my first period since the miscarriage and the doctors don't prepare you for it. The first few days it seemed very normal, except for passing some clots, then it got extremely heavy. Yesterday, I had cramps so bad it felt like I was in labor again, which made me cry because it was like the miscarriage all over again. I took 1200mg of Ibuprofen in two hours and it did almost nothing to stop the pain. I had to go home and take one of the leftover percocet the doctor prescribed for after miscarriage cramps. Within 30 minutes the cramps were gone and 30 minutes after that, if I didn't lay down, I felt like I had morning sickness again (which also made me a little depressed). I forgot how nauseas percocet makes me (from when I had my wisdom teeth out). I did a lot of research online and on forums and found out heavy, crampy periods are normal and the clots are just stuff that didn't pass when I had the baby. It's your body's way of clearing out all the "bad" stuff. As much as this period sucks, it was the first thing I've been waiting for and I'm happy it happened so quickly. I was told it could take up to 6 or 7 weeks after the miscarriage. I hope my next period comes on time too. One down, one to go. :)

In other news, Andrew and I have almost finished our Christmas shopping. We have one more package from Amazon coming today and we will be done! Christmas feels weird this year. I have always loved Christmas so much and am usually super excited for it. I am enjoying the season, don't get me wrong, but it's just harder to get in the spirit this year. At least I'm at the point where my happy days out number my sad days. I still can't help but think about what would be happening if I was still pregnant; I'd be almost 20 weeks and sometime between Christmas and my birthday we would have been able to find out the sex of the baby. I miss you, my angel baby.

I am really excited to give presents though. I think Andrew and I did a good job this year of picking out great gifts and I can't wait to see the excited look on everyones faces! We're just doing the personal gift exchange with Andrew's family instead of the big dinner they usually have. We decided that it's Christmas, a time to be happy and enjoy life, and it's not a day we want be reminded of the tragic loss of our son over and over again. We already think of him every day and I would like to have only positive thoughts of him on Christmas. It would be different if it was any other (regular) day. I hope that everyone can understand that and know that the holidays are the hardest times to deal with loss (in my opinion) and not take it personally.

We are also having lunch/dinner with my mom on Christmas day. I finally get to meet the guy she's been dating for the last 2 or 3 months and approve (hopefully). We've decided not to do gift exchange this year, due mostly in part to my mom's medical bills after breaking her wrist, which is a bit of a relief. We have a medical bill of our own from the hospital so any way we can save money is good. Plus it'll be nice to just eat and relax. I'm really excited about the food. I can't wait!

Merry Christmas!

Today was a typical day at work, full of procrastination of course. Damn Facebook and its addictiveness! In addition to some computer work I had to do I was working on a report for the company that my fellowship is through. I have to summarize what I've done/learned the past year, future plans, etc. I needed to verify when my end date was so I was going through my email to see if I could find any paperwork that stated when my fellowship was officially over. That led me to start cleaning out my horribly full inbox. I seriously don't delete anything. I was going through months worth of emails and just hitting the delete button.

I came across an email from a couple of months ago entittled "poem." It was an email to Andrew about how I wanted to tell our families that we were pregnant. This is the poem:

I do not have a face to see,
or put inside a frame.
I do not have soft cheeks to kiss;
I don't yet have a name.

You can't hold my tiny hands,
or whisper in my ear.
It's still too soon to sing a song,
or cuddle me so near.

But all will change come May 16th,
when they say I'm due.
I'm your new [niece/nephew/grandchild/etc.];
I can't wait till I meet you.

We ended up just using it for my grandma and brother and did something different for our parents. We gave them a baby picture frame with "Picture to follow in May 2010" on it:



Andrew replied by saying he just wanted to announce it. He didn't want to tell some people and not others and he was excited and wanted to tell everyone. He said he was hopeful that we would have a smooth pregnancy.

I replied telling him how I didn't want to tell everyone, mostly I didn't want it getting around at work yet, though I was sure we were going to have a normal, uncomplicated pregnancy.

After I read that I almost broke down at work. I left 20 minutes early because I knew I was going to cry. I really tried not to, my eyes started filling up in the car and then I would breathe and focus on something to keep myself from crying. That cycle went on for the next 15 minutes until I got home let it loose.

I remember those people. The so-in-love newlyweds expecting their first child. They were so excited and happy. There was no reason to doubt that everything was going to be fine. I miss that feeling. I miss the baby inside of me and everything he was going to be in our lives. Part of me wonders if I was being so cautious because I thought something would go wrong. Of course, thinking something might happen and it actually happening are two different things. Deep down though, I was already planning our future with a baby. I would go online and look at baby clothes, toys, furniture, and anything baby related! I really never thought anything so horrible would happen. It took one little email reminding me of how happy I was to show me how sad I still am. It's getting easier but I still have days that set me back. I wish it was easier.

When I first came back to work, it was very difficult for me. Sometimes I would just sit and think about my miscarriage experience and my poor baby. I would want to cry but didn't...most of the time anyway. The days would go by very quickly regardless of how busy I was. In my grief, time did not exist. I couldn't explain how I felt, I just knew that it was terrible and sad. The pain of a broken heart. I felt a need to connect with other women who had experienced the same thing to find comfort, to know that what I was feeling was normal, and to know I'm not alone. I joined a miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant loss group on babycenter.com (a great site with a lot of information for pregnant women). One day at work, I came across a post that I wanted to share that put what I was feeling into words and helped me better understand the way people react to miscarriage. This is what we wish everyone knew about pregnancy loss:

When women experience the loss of a child, one of the first things they discover they have in common is a list of things they wish no one had ever said to them. The lists tend to be remarkably similar. The comments are rarely malicious - just misguided attempts to soothe.


This list was compiled as a way of helping other people understand pregnancy loss. While generated by mothers for mothers, it may also apply similarly to the fathers who have endured this loss.

When trying to help a woman who has lost a baby, the best rule of thumb is a matter of manners: don't offer your personal opinion of her life, her choices, her prospects for children. No woman is looking to poll her acquaintances for their opinions on why it happened or how she should cope.

-Don't say, "It's God's Will." Even if we are members of the same congregation, unless you are a cleric and I am seeking your spiritual counseling, please don't presume to tell me what God wants for me. Besides, many terrible things are God's Will, that doesn't make them less terrible.

-Don't say, "It was for the best - there was probably something wrong with your baby." The fact that something was wrong with the baby is what is making me so sad. My poor baby never had a chance. Please don't try to comfort me by pointing that out.

-Don't say, "You can always have another one." This baby was never disposable. If had been given the choice between loosing this child or stabbing my eye out with a fork, I would have said, "Where's the fork?" I would have died for this baby, just as you would die for your children.

-Don't say, "Be grateful for the children you have." If your mother died in a terrible wreck and you grieved, would that make you less grateful to have your father?

-Don't say, "Thank God you lost the baby before you really loved it." I loved my son or daughter. Whether I lost the baby after two weeks of pregnancy or just after birth, I loved him or her.

-Don't say, "Isn't it time you got over this and moved on?" It's not something I enjoy, being grief-stricken. I wish it had never happened. But it did and it's a part of me forever. The grief will ease on its own timeline, not mine - or yours.

-Don't say, "Now you have an angel watching over you." I didn't want her to be my angel. I wanted her to bury me in my old age.

-Don't say, "I understand how you feel." Unless you've lost a child, you really don't understand how I feel. And even if you have lost a child, everyone experiences grief differently.

-Don't tell me horror stories of your neighbor or cousin or mother who had it worse. The last thing I need to hear right now is that it is possible to have this happen six times, or that I could carry until two days before my due-date and labor 20 hours for a dead baby. These stories frighten and horrify me and leave me up at night weeping in despair. Even if they have a happy ending, do not share these stories with me.

-Don't pretend it didn't happen and don't change the subject when I bring it up. If I say, "Before the baby died..." or "when I was pregnant..." don't get scared. If I'm talking about it, it means I want to. Let me. Pretending it didn't happen will only make me feel utterly alone.

- Don't say, "It's not your fault." It may not have been my fault, but it was my responsibility and I failed. The fact that I never stood a chance of succeeding only makes me feel worse. This tiny little being depended upon me to bring him safely into the world and I couldn't do it. I was supposed to care for him for a lifetime, but I couldn't even give him a childhood. I am so angry at my body you just can't imagine.

-Don't say, "Well, you weren't too sure about this baby, anyway." I already feel so guilty about ever having complained about morning sickness, or a child I wasn't prepared for, or another mouth to feed that we couldn't afford. I already fear that this baby died because I didn't take the vitamins, or drank too much coffee, or had alcohol in the first few weeks when I didn't know I was pregnant. I hate myself for any minute that I had reservations about this baby. Being unsure of my pregnancy isn't the same as wanting my child to die - I never would have chosen for this to happen.

-Do say, "I am so sorry." That's enough. You don't need to be eloquent. Say it and mean it and it will matter.

-Do say, "You're going to be wonderful parents some day," or "You're wonderful parents and that baby was lucky to have you." We both need to hear that.

-Do say, "I have lighted a candle for your baby," or "I have said a prayer for your baby."

-Do send flowers or a kind note. Every one I receive makes me feel as though my baby was loved. Don't resent it if I don't respond.

-Don't call more than once and don't be angry if the machine is on and I don't return your call. If we're close friends and I am not responding to your attempts to help me, please don't resent that, either. Help me by not needing anything from me for a while.

If you're my boss or my co-worker:
-Do recognize that I have suffered a death in my family - not a medical condition.

-Do recognize that in addition to the physical after effects I may experience, I'm going to be grieving for quite some time. Please treat me as you would any person who has endured the tragic death of a loved one - I need time and space.

-DO understand if I do not attend baby showers/christening/birthday parties etc. And DON'T ask why I can't come.

Please don't bring your baby or toddler into the workplace. If your niece is pregnant, or your daughter just had a baby, please don't share that with me right now. It's not that I can't be happy for anyone else, it's that every smiling, cooing baby, every glowing new mother makes me ache so deep in my heart I can barely stand it. I may look okay to you, but there's a good chance that I'm still crying every day. It may be weeks before I can go a whole hour without thinking about it. You'll know when I'm ready - I'll be the one to say, "Did your daughter have her baby?" or, "How is that precious little boy of yours? I haven't seen him around the office in a while."


Above all, please remember that this is the worst thing that ever happened to me. The word "miscarriage" is small and easy. But my baby's death is monolithic and awful. It's going to take me a while to figure out how to live with it. Bear with me.

Today I had my official follow-up appointment with the specialist at the women's clinic. Before I talk about the appointment I did have, I want to talk about the one that I didn't. This appointment was originally scheduled for two days ago (Tuesday). Tuesday was when we had a ton of snow on the ground so the streets were awful and it was freezing. That turns a 20 minute drive into a 30 minute drive (with me going as slow as an old lady) and doesn't make a great start to the day.

Once I get there at 8:40 am there aren't that many people and I get checked in and back to the exam room pretty quick. They take my weight, blood pressure, etc. Then they leave and ask me to take my bottoms off, cover with the sheet, and the doctor will be in. So I sit there...aaaand sit there. It's starting to get a wee bit chilly with nothing but my socks and a paper sheet to keep my bottom half warm. I think it was 15 minutes later when the nurse came in to tell me that the doctor is in surgery and it's taking longer than expected; it'll be another hour. So I can go run errands, which it would probably take an hour just to drive somewhere and back, or I can get dressed and wait in the waiting room. So I go sit in the waiting room.

Never has waiting in a waiting room been so horribly depressing and the name been so appropriate. I tried to occupy my time by going through facebook and email on my phone and avoiding the magazines provided, most of which are pregnancy and family related, the last thing I need to look at right now. I got to see pregnant women going in and out, women and couples with their infants, and whole families with adorable little toddlers in toe. I must keep looking at my phone. After about 45 minutes they called me back to the exam room to wait some more until the doctor arrived. It was now two hours after I arrived and the nurse came in telling me that there were complications so they were having to reschedule all of the doctor's appointments for this afternoon. I was going to have to come back at 3:00 pm.

As soon as I got in my car I had the uncontrollable urge to cry. Tears were streaming down my face thinking of all the beautiful happy pregnant women and the cute little babies. It's not fair. I want that. When I got home it was 11:00 am. Almost half the day wasted waiting around. Skip to 2:00 pm where I recieve a call from the nurse asking if I can come in at 3:30 instead of 3:00? Sure. Skip to 2:50 pm where I recieve a call from the nurse telling me the doctor won't be in today so they will have to reschedule me for Thursday morning. Pain in the ass.

Now back to today's appointment. I got there at 11:30 am and had the same nurse. She didn't bother to weigh me again, thank goodness. (Somebody at work went to Hawaii and brought back chocolate covered macademia nuts and shortbread cookies. They're sitting on the cabinets between mine and Roselyn's half cubes and all I have to do is turn around to eat them. I'm sure I've gained at least a pound). She does the whole blood pressure and question and answer thing, then leaves me alone with the dreaded paper sheet again. I'm pretty sure I was waiting for at least 20 minutes this time with nothing but the sound of badly sung Christmas songs to keep my brain some-what occupied. At least it wasn't as chilly this time.

Finally the doctor comes in. "Sorry about all this...am I in the right room?" He trails off, mumbling to himself and trying to get the laptop started up. Then he asked what happened between when he saw me and....even he doesn't say it out loud. "So you had ruptured membranes?" Yep, my water broke Wednesday night. He asked me about what the doctors saw when they did an exam. I told him they said I was effaced and slightly dilated but didn't say how much, though I got the feeling it wasn't very much. He asks if they said anything about the polyp. They hadn't mentioned it to me. He had talked to the doctor from labor and delivery that night and she hadn't mentioned anything to him either. This is when he told me he thought that maybe it wasn't a polyp after all. If it wasn't a polyp, what was it? Pregnancy tissue. What this means is that it wasn't the polyp causing my bleeding. I was in the early stages of an impending and inevitable miscarriage. "Is this something that can happen fast? Because we saw you on Tuesday when you saw it but at the urgent care on the Sunday before they didn't see it." That's the thing, polyps don't just pop up suddenly like that and they are usually very easy to spot on the ultrasound. He did a quick pelvic exam and there was no polyp there. It's not there now and knowing how big it was, how difficult it was to find on ultrasound, and someone not seeing it two days before, it sounded like it was definitely pregnancy tissue. I have an imcompetent cervix.

I already knew that's what it was; I had done my research, which is why I never understood why my doctor never seemed to be concerned about that being an issue. With an incompetent cervix it doesn't have to be very dilated for bad things to happen. The amniotic sac can start falling through and it's like an hourglass effect on the inside and outside of the cervix, or as my normal physician said, like a balloon that is trying to squeeze through a small space and then "pops." If that was the case then the cerclage wouldn't have helped. Like he said, it was inevitable. As sad as it was to hear that nothing would have saved the baby at that point, it was such an emotional relief. I can quit blaming myself for thinking it was something I did and quit thinking of the what-ifs. Coming in a couple of days earlier wouldn't have changed a thing. They would have had to catch the incompetence when it very first started, which was somewhere between our perfectly normal 11 week ultrasound  and just prior to 14 weeks after I started bleeding and they found the effacement at the urgent care. Maybe if they had done the surgery the day they saw my cervix shortening they could have saved the pregnancy, but that is a pretty big maybe and it would have been impossible to schedule at that time when they didn't know definitively what was happening. It's better to put the stitch in before any effacement occurs anyway.

During the pelvic exam he said everything was looking pretty normal but my "cervix is looking pretty incompetent still." It almost sounds like an insult, doesn't it? He said what this means for future pregnancies is putting in the cerclage earlier, before any changes take place in my cervix. 14 weeks usually is the standard for early incompetence cases, with most women exhibiting my degree of incompetence between 16 and 20 weeks. This just means my cervix is more imcompetent. Cervix fail. Next time we will be stitching it up at 12 and a half weeks when we're out of the realm of normal, natural first trimester miscarriage and it shouldn't irritate my cervix too much. He asked about when we were thinking of trying again. I told him we would like to try as soon as we can, maybe in January or February after I have a period. He said that he recommends two cycles but there is no reason to wait any longer than that. Timing is going to be very important next time so it's crucial to have reliable and accurate dates. He has to be notified right away when we get pregnant again so we can get things set in motion.

Finally, there is some hope for the future. It's hard to have hope again but it feels good. Even though we lost our first little one, it doesn't have to happen again. I have confidence that with accurate dates and frequent, careful monitoring that they can prevent another tragedy. I know we will have a beautful baby to hold in our arms one day. Maybe this time next year we will be celebrating the holidays with a little addition to our family. That's a nice thought.

Here I am in week two of being back at work doing fairly well, but the first week was pretty awful. When I thought I was going to be back at work a week earlier, I had told my supervisor to let people know and have them not bring it up to me. It was still really hard for me to talk about it and having people mention it would just make it harder. It would have been true for that previous week, but it made it more difficult the first week back, the first week in December, when people didn't talk about it.

The first person to talk to me was my unofficial supervisor, Brandy. She just got right back into the swing of things and what I needed to be doing. She also seemed to have some difficulty looking me in the eyes, but maybe I was imagining that. Still, other people would look at me strange and give a weird, sad smile when I walked by, not knowing if they should say hi or not. Part of me was glad they didn't talk to me because I didn't want to talk to them. It was awkward day. I cried in my car all the way home that night. The next day I started doing job searches online feeling that there was no way I could still work here, not with people knowing what happened to me. I needed to go somewhere where people didn't know what happened and would treat me like just another normal person. That Wednesday was our monthy section meeting which wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Still, I left wishing things weren't so weird between me and every other person at work. I told Andrew I wished they would all just tell me what they wanted to say and get it over with. He said that was how it had been at work for him; people told him they were sorry, they were thinking of or praying for us, then it got back to work as usual.

Thursday I had my second follow-up appointment with my doctor. It was two weeks exactly that day. While waiting for her in the exam room I saw the pictures on her poster board of the newborns she must have delivered. As if that wasn't heartbreaking enough, I could also hear a baby crying in another room. For the remaining 5 minutes I had to look away from the pictures and focus on the ticking clock, not the wailing child, to keep from crying. When she came in she asked how I was doing. If she had asked that question prior to Monday I would have been able to say "pretty good." I said "ok." I told her how hard it had been going back to work with people ignoring me and not knowing how to act or what to say to me. I told her I still wasn't sleeping well. It wasn't due to uncomfortable breasts and cramps this time, it was my dreams. Part of it was that I wasn't so exhausted from crying all the time, which as miserable as it had been, it had still helped me sleep soundly. Once the crying had mostly diminished, right before bed anyway, I had very vivid and memorable dreams. More like nightmares. Every dream had infants or children in it. In some dreams I was pregnant, some I played the protector of the child, and in some I was the child. I would wake up several times a night or, as I do now, very early in the morning and couldn't fall back asleep. She suggested I take Benadryl, but that hasn't helped me sleep through the night, it just makes me groggy in the morning. I didn't tell her about my dreams, just that they were weird, and she went on asking me physical health questions. She said that I seemed to be doing better than last time but to call her if I had any set-backs or seemed to be stuck in a depressed emotional state. She talked to the nurse and set-up an appointment with the specialist, that had been scheduled to do my cerclage, for a follow-up. She was also going to see if she could cancel the prenatal classes Andrew and I had signed up for and get our money back. Thank goodness for thoughtful people, especially when they're your doctor.

When Friday came, I was ready for it. What a long week it had been. Being busy and occupied at work really had not been helping my emotional state at all. I did finally get some relief from the awkwardness. I have a small cubicle in a shared space with another small cubicle. Roselyn works half-time in this building and half time in the other building. Despite the fact that she is in her 50's (I think), she is one of the few people I easily get along with and enjoy talking to at work. On Friday she told me that she didn't know if she should say anything but she wanted to let me know how sorry she was and she asked me how I was doing. Wow. It was so weird to be asked by someone that wasn't a family and so touching that she did, even though I'm sure she got the email that Brandy sent out saying I had requested not to be talked to about it. Just the fact that she cared enough to say anything made me a little choked up and I had to keep myself from crying. Her sweet gesure had turned Friday around for me. Now if only everyone else could do that.

The first week was the hardest. Andrew and I talked about it a lot, I cried, and we tried to distract ourselves. We watched a lot of movies, tv shows, and played a lot of Super Mario Brothers for the Wii. It was nice getting to spend so much time with my wonderful husband, even though the reason why was very sad. Distraction worked well, but only for so long. Any time I wasn't distracted I would think about it; one day I was brushing my teeth before bed and broke down. I cried myself to sleep almost every night that first week and a few times the second. I went through different phases of "it's not fair" to "what-if?" The what-ifs and hypothetical situations where the worst. I kept replaying the weekend before the miscarriage in my mind. What if I had gone to the doctors that Friday that I started bleeding instead of waiting until Sunday? Would those two days have made a difference or had it always been the beginning of an irreversible miscarriage? What if I hadn't cleaned the day before the surgery? Had it been too strenuous? Would the cerclage have even helped? What if I can never have a successful pregnancy?

The Saturday after the miscarriage I noticed my breasts felt pretty hard and tender. On Sunday they were rock hard and painful. My milk had come in. In the grief handbook the hospital gave us it said that this would happen within 72 hours but was most likely to occur after 20 weeks. This was happening to me at 14 and a half weeks. I had done what the handbook said to prevent it- wear a supportive bra and avoid stimulation. Apparently it didn't help. That night in the shower I squeezed them a little, a tip the handbook said may help, and got a couple of drops out. It was true, even just one or two drops made a bit of difference. Unfortunately after that my right breast leaked for 4 days or so. Not too much, I guess, but I would have to wash my sports bras (the tightest ones I have) every day. I was very upset at my body for this. I kept thinking "don't you know my baby is dead? You shouldn't be doing this!"

I had my first follow-up appointment with my regular physician that Monday. When I was there it was hard to not cry. I would do ok if I didn't talk about it, but when people would say I'm sorry or I would talk about it, even with Andrew, I would usually cry. We talked about my milk coming in, my cramps and bleeding (all normal), and how it was affecting me, but we mostly talked about what had happened and a little bit about what will be different in the future (more monitoring). I made an appointment to see her again next Thursday.

During that first week my emotions were up and down. I really was a wreck. One day Andrew and I went grocery shopping and passed several carts with children and babies in them. Where I used to get an "aw, how cute" feeling, I now felt my heart ache and warm tears filled my eyes. Simple things were bitter-sweet, like my first beer. I felt so bad for ever complaining how it was disappointing to be pregnant in October when my favorite beer, pumpkin beer, was in season. Obviously I was so excited to be pregnant and the beer was insignificant but I felt such guilt for ever complaining. I felt guilt about a lot of complaining I had done, like about morning sickness, which contributed to my emotions. No morning sickness was bitter-sweet too; on the one hand it's like "yay, I don't feel like throwing up today and I can actually eat a good breakfast," but I would also be thinking "I would rather be pregnant and throw-up everyday than not be pregnant right now." One especially depressing evening I was laying in bed watching tv when a commercial came on; it was the Kay's commercial where the mom is downstairs holding her baby and the dad comes down to light up the Christmas tree and says something along the lines of it being their first Christmas as a family. I lost it. That was the night I told my best friend. It was such a good feeling to talk to someone that cared so much and was so impacted by the news, other than family that is. Something like that really shows you who your true friends are.

That first week also had Thanksgiving in it. Thanksgiving marked exactly one week. It had its good and bad parts. We were supposed to have Thanksgiving with Andrew's family but decided against it. It was still hard to be around people and family and we knew they were all going to be telling us how sorry they were and hugging us, which would have caused both of us to lose it. We decided on a quiet Thanksgiving at home, just the two of us. We cooked turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie. It was delicious. We enjoyed some wine with our feast and watched some Office. Perfect. It wasn't until later that I got emotional. After Andrew asked if he minded if he played one of his video games I got really upset. I told him I felt like he was done greiving and just wanted to have to day to himself to play video games when I wanted to spend the day with him. He got upset because that was not true and then felt bad for how emotional I was. We talked more, he held me, I talked about how hard it still was for me, and we ended up salvaging the day. It's so strange how different men and woman grieve.

The second week I think I was doing better. I didn't cry every single day. Crying wasn't constantly triggered by children and babies on tv or commercials, even though seeing the little boys was the hardest. They made me wonder "what would our son have looked like?" There were actually days where I would laugh, mostly because of Andrew, and I felt happy some of the time. My breasts were going down a lot which was such a relief. It had been a pretty good week but I was still very anxious about going back to work, which would end up setting me back on the progress I had made.

This is my first blog. My motivation for starting it is, unfortunately, my miscarriage. Is that weird to hear? It's weird to say. I decided I needed a place to get down everything I went through, emotionally and physically, through the whole experience. In this way I can continue to heal and look back on the progress I've made from day one. This will be the longest post as it starts from the beginning of a life and ends at its end.

To start at the beginning we have to go back to August 22nd, 2009. My wedding day and the day my son was conceived. Let's just say it was a busy day! This is the day I legally joined my life to the most amazingly wonderful man I have ever met, Andrew. We had a morning to afternoon wedding and then went off to our honeymoon in a beautiful mountain cabin. We had talked about trying to get pregnant soon after the marriage for the last couple of years but didn't think it would literally happen on the first try. I didn't even think I was ovulating and was, in fact, expecting my period any day at that point. Given my irregular cycle it's pretty amazing that one try was all it took.

When I didn't get my period the next week, I took a pregnancy test. Negative. I thought "maybe it's just late." That wouldn't be unusual for me. A week later I knew. I just felt different. That night I was supposed to go out with co-workers for margaritas so I figured I better figure it out. Friday morning I took a test and it was positive. It was faint but there were 2 lines! I remember telling Andrew and his reply, "It's really faint though. Does that mean it's positive? Should you take another one?" or something along those lines. I let it sit for 10 more minutes and the line got darker. We were definitely pregnant! At first it was disbelief, then shock, then happiness, then how am I going to cancel margarita happy hour without telling them why? I wanted to cry and smile at the same time while hugging Andrew but I was 5 minutes late for work. Damn. Memo: never test to see if you're pregnant if you don't have time to comprehend and celebrate the result if it's positive.

That week I went in to take the official doctors office pregnancy test to confirm. We got set up with a nurse later that week and got an appointment for early ultrasound to confirm date of conception. At the time of the ultrasound I was 6 weeks. At 6 weeks, a baby is a little bean attached to a yolk sack. It doesn't look like much, but it already has a heartbeat. There was a little spot near one end that was flashing. Wow. That made it more real and Andrew and I were so happy in that moment. Also found out I had a small ovarian cyst. They said it might cause some pain and bleeding. I had my first prenatal exam at 7 weeks. It was basically a question and answer session. Blood was drawn. Got a huge bruise from where she jammed the needle in. So far so good regarding the pregnancy and my health.

Week 8- first sign of trouble. Went to the bathroom first thing in the morning and found bright red spotting. The heaviest spotting I had to date. I was concerned for the baby but also that it could be the cyst. Called the urgent care at 6:30 am for the doctor on call. Never got a call back. At 8:00 am I called my regular doctors office. My usual physician was out so they set me up with another physician. He was nice. Still too early to hear the heart beat via doppler, which would have been reassuring, but he did an exam and said my cervix was still closed. An ultrasound was scheduled for later that day. We got to see the little bugger at 8 weeks. The difference from 6 to 8 weeks is amazing. It was starting to look more like a baby. There was a definite head and little nubs for arms and legs! In the last ultrasound the yolk sack had been larger than the baby, but this time he was almost twice its size. Heard the heart beat again. Found out the cyst was diminishing so it didn't rupture. They never figured out why I bled.

We took a profile picture of me at 8 weeks. We were going to do it every month for comparison on how big I was going to get.

Week 11- second occurrence of bleeding. Went to the bathroom first thing in the morning. Saw blood on the toilet paper again. More this time. Looked down and the toilet was full of red. Waited until 8:00 am to call the doctors office since urgent care was no help last time. I was in the parking lot at work when I called because it was the first Wednesday of the month. That's when we have our section meetings and I didn't want to miss. Found out later that I didn't have reception in the meeting room and had a missed call. Finally got a hold of the nurse and set up an ultrasound. We got to see him and got more ultrasound pictures. These would be the last printed of him. This time was amazing. He now had mostly fully formed arms and legs with feet and hands. His head was head-shaped. Heart beat was strong. He moved around so much! The results were sent to my doctor and in the return call they said everything looked normal, sometimes blood just pools behind the placenta and then can be released. At that time I breathed a sigh of relief. Things seemed fine after that. No more bleeding. We took another profile picture at 12 weeks. I was getting a little belly on me.

Week 13- the last occurrence of bleeding. We had a prenatal appointment at 14 weeks and 2 days. At 13 weeks and 6 days, I started bleeding again. It was very mild spotting at first and not even bright red. It was brownish-pink, which is the "safe" kind of bleeding. I didn't have any cramping and still had that nauseas feeling in the morning, which was reassuring. The blood continued though, not like those other times. It never got heavy so I figured I try to wait it out until Monday's appointment. Saturday it started to get a little heavier, like the lightest period on your lightest day. Looking back I had some mild cramping but ignored it at the time. I figured I might as well wait until Monday because what could they do for me on the weekend?

Week 14- a glimmer of hope before the end. I started getting stomach pain Saturday night which became intense on Sunday. I tried so hard not to show how much pain I was in because Sunday was Andrew's birthday. I didn't want to ruin his birthday. I didn't want this to be the day we found out our baby was dead or that I was going to miscarry soon. He took me to the urgent care against my will that night. At 4:30 pm we met with the doctor. We heard the heart beat. Oh sweet relief! He did a physical exam. He said that my cervix was still closed (no dilating) but that it felt effaced, that it was shortened and felt thinner. We had to do yet another emergency ultrasound to measure my cervix and see what was going on. The baby was still there, alive, strong, moving around. They ruled out placenta previa and still had no clue why I was bleeding. Got home around 9:00 pm.

At my prenatal appointment that Monday, we heard the heart beat again on the doppler and discussed the results of my ultrasound. After the late night ultrasound at the hospital, lots of doctors were brought in about what the results could mean. My doctor set up an appointment for Tuesday with a specialist. We needed to talk to him about a cerclage- a stitch put in my cervix to prevent further effacement and help hold the baby in until due date. She also said the cause of my pain might be related to my bowels considering that it wasn't located over my uterus. We got some stool softeners on the way home.

We met with the specialist who my doctor referred to as a gentle giant or a big bear of a guy. He was a large guy but was nice enough. He seemed busy, not enough time for introductions and small talk. Down to business. He recommended the cerclage. He had seen several other women in my case have a cerclage and carry to term. he recommended it at 14 weeks. I was 14 weeks 4 days so we needed to schedule it in soon. Got an appointment for Thursday, November 19th. He did a physical exam to verify the effacement and look for dilation. He said I had a cervical polyp the size of the end of his thumb (which was probably almost the size of a quarter). That was what was probably causing the bleeding. We did an ultrasound to verify it was indeed a polyp and not part of the placenta. They also measured my cervix length again. It was between 1.6 and 2.2 centimeters. Less than 2.5 cm is a concern and most pregnant women should be between 3 and 5 cm. There was no way I would carry to term without a cerclage. That was the last time we really saw him moving. Got to see her measuring his bones and his little limbs were kicking all over the place. He was bigger and more defined then he had been at 11 weeks. I'm still sad we never got a picture from that appointment.

We went to the hospital (just right across the street) for pre-admittance for the surgery. I got checked in and ready for surgery two days later. We went to subway and home and just enjoyed the afternoon off thinking that we had a plan now and there would be no more problems. Everything was supposed to be alright.

11/18/09- the last time we see our son alive. Wednesday morning was the second day of my laxative diet. My stomach pain had almost subsided so I figured that must have been the cause of the pain, not an impending miscarriage. I still had some minor, painless cramping, which they said would happen because of the weakening of my cervix. I did some light housework since I wouldn't be able to do much for a couple days after the surgery, and watched a movie. Later I went in bed and read. Except for the housework I was laying down most of the day, and had been for the last week. I noticed the bleeding was lighter today, but a little bit more watery than usual. I didn't think anything of it at the time, I was just happy that I wasn't bleeding as much and that tomorrow morning I was getting a surgery to save my baby and remove the polyp causing this bleeding. At 9:00 pm I was lying down with Andrew and watching a pretty ridiculous movie. I felt a gush of fluid. I went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and yelled for Andrew. There was clear fluid in my underwear that had filled up my pad. I told him to look online about what this could be or what it meant if my water was breaking. I changed my pad and underwear and then had another big gush. I went to the bathroom and so much fluid came out. Andrew asked me if I had to go to the bathroom again and I told him that I'm not. That was it, we knew my water broke. We hopped in the car and drove 20 minutes to the emergency room.

I walked up to the desk and said "I'm 14 weeks pregnant and I think my water just broke." Right then I could feel the tears start to fill my eyes but I wouldn't let myself cry yet. Not until I knew there was no hope left. At 9:30 we were in our own room. They gave me a gown to change into. She asked if I had been bleeding. "No, just the clear fluid"....then, as I took my underwear off I saw that the pad and my underwear were soaked in blood...."yes...a lot of blood." I took them off and they gave me a plastic bag to put them in. I sat on the bed that had a large scare pad for me to sit on and I could feel it gushing still. People were in and out, asking me the same questions over and over again, "Name? Birth date? Address? How far along are you? Who's your doctor?" Another girl was sticking an IV in my arm and trying to draw blood.

Meanwhile I was sitting in a pool of my own blood and even the blankets weren't keeping me warm anymore. That and the fluid from the IV was very cold. After that they left and 30 minutes later the doctor came in to do an exam. Definitely effaced and showing some dilation. He wanted to schedule me for an ultrasound. As he was leaving I asked if I could use the bathroom. He asked if I could use a bedpan since he didn't want me walking around until the ultrasound. I said sure, feeling somewhat embarrassed and very defeated. Another nurse came in later and pulled out the bedpan from the cabinet. Then she asked if I would rather use a bedside commode. Yes, please. I felt some sense of dignity return. After I was done I looked down and it was filled with blood and a giant clot. I looked at where I had been sitting which was covered in blood. A couple tears went down my cheeks. When the nurse came back we asked her if she could change the pad on the bed, which she did. She took the toilet out and brought back some freshly warm blankets. She was very nice and I won't forget her. Before we went to ultrasound she brought in a doppler and we heard his heartbeat again. It was fast and strong. Andrew and I looked at each other with a sliver of hope that maybe there is some hope still.

The ultrasound tech was rude. He said he hadn't called for me and had been waiting for another patient. We had to wait for him to call and "check" that this was right. The nice nurse rolled her eyes. He didn't turn the ultrasound screen very far towards us. I had to turn my head pretty far to see the screen but I was afraid to look and only got a couple of glimpses. I could tell that it looked different and he didn't seem to be moving very much, if at all.

Back in the emergency room the doctor came in and told us the results. I had membrane rupture which caused the amniotic sac to break and all the fluid leaked out. The baby was no longer protected in the uterus and wouldn't be able to survive. I later learned that if this happened at 28 weeks or later, then usually they can guide the pregnancy on for another week or two and then deliver. Before that there is nothing they can do. I had very mild cramps still and since he had seen some dilation of the cervix, I was going to need to go to labor and delivery to "pass" the baby. This was the moment where all hope was lost and I cried. Andrew held my hand and we knew it was over.

11/19/09- the day our son was born and died. I didn't know what time it was until we got to labor and delivery. I still can't remember exactly but I think it was around midnight or later. We had already been there for 3-4 hours but it seemed much longer. The on-all doctor for labor was in a c-section so we were met by the on-call nurse, Dawn. She is probably the nicest person I have ever met and helped so much to have her there through the whole experience. I could look at her and tell that she felt so bad for us. She had to ask all the usual questions and I tried to be polite and make conversation but I was very tired and still hadn't been able to fully cry. I just wanted to cry myself to sleep. It was an hour before the doctor arrived. They did an exam and saw that I was a little dilated but not that much. I was having cramps but they were variable and definitely not close enough together for me to time them. They said if nothing happened soon they would give me some medication to help me dilate. They were going to hold open my surgery time slot for later that day in case they needed to do a D&C, but they wanted me to try to naturally pass the baby since I was in the second trimester. We were left alone for a little bit and all Andrew and I could really do was look at each other with the saddest faces. Between 2:30 am and 3:30 am I took the pills to start dilation and had to stay awake until she brought in papers for me to sign. She said at 6:30 am she would come back and give me more pills to take but I could sleep until then. Because the cramps had become more painful they had hooked up some pain medication to my IV which helped me sleep a little. I still had a hard time sleeping but I fell asleep for at least 2 hours. I woke up at 6:15 am and had to pee. I decided to wait until 6:30 am when she was supposed to come back in but at about 6:25am I felt a gush of blood or fluid and then I could feel a pressure and I knew the baby was coming. I pressed the call button, Dawn came in and took a look and saw that the baby was coming. They paged the doctor, who never came, but another nurse was in there with her and they delivered my son.

I felt him come out. It didn't hurt. I started to get cramps after though. That was my body trying to get everything else out of my uterus. They took him and asked if I wanted to hold him. I was scared but I knew I did. I guess I expected the placenta to come out right away then they could leave so Andrew and I could have some time with our baby alone. I told them that the cramps were hurting a lot more so they gave me more pain medication. It took away the pain so I could keep pushing, then resting, then pushing. They wrapped our baby up and I got to hold him while we waited for everything else to come out. I think within another 10 minutes or so I pushed out the placenta and everything. I felt a huge relief of pressure. I was still cramping a little so they gave me more medicine. We got a little bit of time alone with our son soon after.

He was so little. He measured at 5 3/4 inches and 4 ounces. They said we might not be able to tell the sex at this point but it was quite obvious that he was a boy. He looked just like a baby only smaller. His head was bigger in comparison to the rest of his body too. He had all of his fingers and toes perfectly formed with little fingernails. If you haven't seen a baby this early, it's red. Their skin is also very thin so you can sort of see the veins running underneath. He had perfect little ears and a nose and mouth. His eyes were closed as all babies this early in development are. He was perfect. After a little while they took him to take pictures and asked if we wanted to hold him more. At that time I said no but I wish I would have. All I have are my memories and a few blurry photos to remember him by.

They took him away for good. Another doctor came in later and talked to me. He wanted to take my blood at 10 to make sure my levels were ok and I wasn't anemic and for me to eat something. Around 7:30 Andrew ordered some toast and a banana for me. I had been really hungry earlier but didn't feel like eating much then. I told Andrew to go home and let our dog out and to feed her and the cat. All I could eat was half a piece of toast and half of the banana. Then I decided to take a nap. I had a different nurse now since it was time for Dawn to go home. She was nice enough but not too bright. The machines hooked up to my blood pressure cuff would alarm about every 15 minutes or so. She kept coming in and saying she was going to unhook them or turn them off but it would happen again. This happened about 4 times. Finally she turned them off but it was almost 9. I didn't get but 30 minutes of sleep.

My mom called and I told her the news. She had been calling me to wish me luck for my surgery. She didn't know what to say and sounded devastated. I started to cry again. Someone was coming in the door so I got off the phone. It was Andrew. I started to bawl when he came back telling him the machines kept going off every time I would start to fall asleep and I was so tired and just wanted to go home. The machine ended up alarming again soon after. I think she finally disconnected it because it didn't go off again. They had disconnected my IV so I got up to go to the bathroom and vomited my food in the trash can. I'm not even pregnant anymore and still have morning sickness. What a sad reminder. They didn't come take my blood until 10:20 am and then at 10:40 am the other doctor came back in and asked if I had eaten and what-not. I told him yes but I threw it up so he told me I needed to eat again and when I could keep it down I could leave. They brought me a disgusting bagel with butter, jelly, peanut butter to put on it. It was soggy and I had wanted cream cheese. Oh well, it was ok with butter and peanut butter. Andrew helped me eat it because I just wasn't that hungry at that point. No one came back in for another hour and finally we could go since I was able to keep my food down. It was 12:30 pm when we left. The worst 15 hours of my life. We passed a pregnant woman on the way out of the hospital and I almost lost it. I waited until we got in the car and I cried. We still had to go pick up my prescription so I couldn't lose it just yet, even though I looked like death.

I cried the rest of the way home. I carried a little shoebox they gave us with his footprints and a couple things they took pictures of him in. I looked through the box with Andrew when we got home and cried my heart out as we held each other. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me and I hope it always will be.