This Time Around

Yep, I'm pregnant. Again. I know, you aren't surprised and I'm sure you had your suspicions. And in case you're wondering, I am scared out of my ever loving mind. My body has now been pregnant 3 times in my nearly 29 years of life and all within about a 6-month timeslot. My body seems to handle the whole conception part pretty swimmingly; it's after that when all hell breaks loose. At least from my track record.

Third time, you ask? I only knew about Andrew. Well, yeah.

See, right around the 6-month mark of Andrew's birth, I was about 7 weeks pregnant with #2 after about three months of trying. It turned out, however, that #2 never developed past the implantation stage and was considered a blighted ovum. I was set to miscarry after ultrasound confirmation #2. And 12 hours later, my body kicked into high gear and expelled the sac and whatever residual "pregnancy matter" that existed. That was the medical term they used. I'm not even sure if I'd consider that a child since it never developed at all, but that's a debate for another time and place. I followed that with a D&C the next day to make sure my ute was all clean and tidy. It was probably totally unnecessary, but after two losses in 6 months, I just wanted to end the battle and press on. I didn't want to bleed for another month like I did after giving birth. I was defeated. Sad. Frustrated. The why-me game started all over again and  I was in pretty rough shape. Four days after my miscarriage, I wrote this. Perhaps you can see the relapse in the words I wrote.

Even better, the same doctor who delivered Andrew (that I thought was cold-hearted and inconsiderate) had to be the one to "tell us" (though obviously we're not idiots) that I was about to miscarry. Her words: "Why do I always have to be the one to deliver you with bad news?" Really, I pitied her. She delivered my stillborn son and exited my life without muttering a condolence until the day she had to tell me I was losing my second pregnancy. I can assure you, seeing her face and hearing her voice again was far too soon. Losing my babies is the most devastating thing in my world and she treated it like the weather. There are words I can use to describe this doctor that I almost never think of when talking about another human being.

My favorite OB and the one who visited me in the hospital twice post-birth is the one I remain loyal to. While in the same practice as the witch doctor, she still came in and cried with me, offered her condolences, offered emotional support and guidance, and didn't waste any time talking about the future and gloating about all her fabulous resources and studies in the field of pregnancy post stillbirth. I just can't believe she shares an office with the woman who is so inconvenienced by having to deal with a couple experiencing the single worst thing of their lives. Make that twice. Because I wasn't "lucky" enough to experience just one loss. Some of you were probably doing the math and figuring out that I got pregnant pretty stinking fast after my miscarriage. That's because, despite what all the medical professionals advise (though mine didn't formally object), I didn't wait for a period. I waited for my hcg levels to drop below 5 and tested for ovulation. It was all methodical and planned. I didn't care if it would be harder for them to "date" the pregnancy. And I surely wasn't waiting around to give myself more time to mourn the loss of another baby. If I'm being ultra honest, I wish I hadn't waited the three months after Andrew's birth to try again either. I'll be an emotional basketcase about Andrew dying for the rest of my life. All I wanted was to get pregnant and I knew that waiting after the miscarriage would just cause me more anxiety. So I didn't. Three weeks later, I was knocked up for the third time. Ultrasound at 6ish weeks determined I was measuring 2 days ahead of my own predictions with a heartbeat. It also revealed a subchorionic hematoma. What are the Vegas odds on my pregnancy issues? Anyone? At the 8-week appt., the hematoma shrunk ever-so-slightly but was still there. But baby had a heartbeat. At my 12-week appt., the hematoma was gone and we still had a heartbeat along with fingers and toes. The little one was also measuring 4 days ahead of schedule. In addition, I also had five OB appointments and one with an MFM who I didn't really fancy all that much. Let's just say there is a plan in place having to do with extra checkups, more monitoring, more ultrasounds, and a swift delivery by induction when deemed safe. This girl isn't taking any chances and she sure isn't holding her breath.

Anyway, I'm 4 months. I waited this long to tell for so many reasons. These same reasons apply for why I decided not to announce my miscarriage formally on the blog.

• I announced my pregnancy at 14.5 weeks on the blog with Andrew. I wasn't planning to share anytime before that.
• I wanted this time to handle my first trimester post loss(es) as a family and as a couple. It's not top-secret information, per se, but it is information that I no longer would consider flippant to blurt out in conversation. It's too sacred.
• I'm constantly surprised by the number of folks who read this blog. This was not started as a baby loss blog and my readers are from a variety of places. The majority of my readers are not baby loss moms. While many are still supportive and kind, there are a good number who are {likely} reading so they can put a happy ending to my story. A couple loses a child and gets pregnant again (and again). Yippee! The world is whole again. I can't wait to call her to ask what she's craving and when she wants to schedule a Babies r' Us date. Hooray for everything. Not-so-fast. I'm not fixed. I'm just as broken but I do know that having Andrew made us want children that much more. When you lose something you love so much, it makes you a fighter. At least that's what losing Andrew has made us. I refuse to accept this idea that I'm fixed. Let's not forget that my pregnancy with Andrew was textbook perfect until the end when it wasn't. So if you think I'll be comfortable at any moment to put my guard down and assume expecting = live baby in the end, I won't listen. I'll be as hopeful as I have to be, but I know reality comes in many shades. Not all of those shades are in happy colors. Anyway, all that babbling to say that if this blog were written solely with a BLM audience, I'd have announced immediately. It's not. I need to keep some of my life private from everyone I've ever met and their mothers, otherwise I'd go insane. And if it weren't for the support of my BLM following, I wouldn't even announce it on the blog. I'd continue on with my journaling offline. But I need you ladies. You have gotten me through the last (nearly) 10 months and I need you now. This pregnancy post-loss business is no joke.
• I don't want to be treated like pregnancy is some new thing for me. I've been there before. Recently. We all know that. I've experienced this all before and would prefer to be treated like I have some expertise in the matter. Most parents don't blog as much about their second/third... pregnancies as they did with their first. Usually they're juggling pregnancy with a toddler. Obviously that's not my situation, but it feels a bit like déjà vu if you ask me. While this pregnancy is proving to be different than my previous two, I'm still pregnant and very aware of what is going on within my body and to my body. I gladly surrender to the little grower.
• I'm scared. Being the bearer of bad news on repeat occasions has to be the most depressing thing. I'm tired of being that poor couple and didn't want to give another reason for my blog to end up as water cooler discussion. Hey, did you hear that the couple who lost their baby in December is pregnant again? Cringe. Most of what is written here is strictly for my own therapy, my family to be updated, and for friends to understand the life of a bereaved mom. And it's helped me connect with an incredible group of moms who will also live their entire lives mourning the loss of their babies. It's a heavy reality but I'm so thankful for this group of ladies.

Also, I apologize if this post sounds defensive-- because I truly am thankful for another chance. I just really don't know how to handle pregnancy under a microscope. When I wrote about my pregnancy with Andrew, I only had about 30 regular readers and I didn't know what it was like to feel the failure of losing a child yet. I'm sure many people I know have been watching every last blog post I write lately just looking for a belly photo or hint that I might be expecting since it has been nearly 10 months. She should be pregnant by now after all... since she has hinted that they've been trying. I won't be posting belly pictures or doing weekly updates like I did with Andrew. I am keeping a side journal of daily feelings/symptoms, but that won't be going public. Reading back on Andrew's pregnancy posts make me both sad and thankful. I am happy that I wrote them out so I'd have a documentation of such a wonderful time in our lives and the growth of our little boy. But this time around is filled with doubt and trepidation... something I'm not dealing with lightly. I'll share information here or there, but don't expect this to be a repeated edition of pregnancy #1. It's not. I acknowledge and firmly believe all life should be celebrated. And I celebrate this one. But it's like celebrating next to the emergency exit. In case something goes awry, I need to find a way to deal. No pregnancy tickers or cute little bouncing babies. For your sake and mine. I'm not interested in the triggers and I'm sure my ttc friends aren't either. I'll mostly blog about my anxieties and such dealing with pregnancy after loss. But in true form, I will also be blogging about what I do best-- missing my son, and all the vacations and fun things we do as a married couple, because that is the reason I started this blog. Because even though I'm still waiting to hold a live baby in my arms, I'm still living and married to a pretty fantastic guy that I will celebrate. This baby is also part of our story. It is good news and I'm just trying to wrap my head around how to react in the midst of it all.

Here's to hoping Andrew will be a "big" brother at some point in 2012.

Remembering Autumn

I remember a day back in Autumn... we had dinner with two wonderful friends, Derrick & Liz. I was blissfully pregnant and it was still warm enough to sit outside. We ate at a lovely Greek restaurant for the very first time. I remember what I had-- a sort of Greek lasagna. My friend Liz had the same.

We talked, joked, and shared in such a wonderful moment. Liz shared through her prayer of thanksgiving before our meal that she was expecting. It took me longer than Ray and once I realized what she had said, I was beaming. We were both pregnant. To think we'd have babies within months of one another who would share experiences together, play together, and be in the same grade at school. Derrick is a CPA, so tax season is his busiest time. They were expecting their baby just as tax season ended! What a joy! Well, that day of expectation is today.

They were the first friends here in Illinois we shared our early pregnancy with over dinner at a Spanish tapas restaurant. We couldn't wait to tell people and we had a feeling these two would become great friends. During my entire pregnancy leading up to their news, I was hoping they would become pregnant, too. I wanted to share this journey with a couple we both greatly admired. And for awhile, we did share that same love and joy new parents have.

And sadly, both of our stories are incomplete. I suppose they are complete, but with endings we so sadly realize as unfortunate. Liz miscarried sweet Autumn, and because of when she was conceived, that became the name of their first baby.

Today, we remember Autumn and all the joy we shared in carrying our babies. Forever loved and never forgotten.