Grateful for the Experience.
After a whirlwind week, I resolved this morning to tell my story in hopes that it might help some other women out there. That I'm posting in the "Lost" column obviously gives away the ending to the story, but I think the road we traveled is worth the telling.
My husband and I got married ten months ago, in early October 2010. We have had a wonderful courtship and first year of marriage, even if it has been incredibly hectic with work, grad school, renovating our house, selling our house, and extensive traveling. We live in my hometown, I work with my father, and we both share rewarding relationships with our in-laws. We're an active, busy, and very social couple with a huge circle of friends and family. We consider ourselves very blessed with a wonderful relationship and fulfilling life.
We discovered last Friday, the 19th, that we were pregnant. We adore the little children in our lives and have always planned to have a family, but we weren't trying to get pregnant. The surprise, after overcoming the shock of it, was welcome. However, the fact that I had been bleeding for a week and a half during my normal period cycle suddenly went from being a relative non-event to extremely concerning. We did three HPT's and went to Urgent Care on Saturday to confirm it. They did a urine test and drew blood, both of which came back positive. Our visit to the OB the following Monday confirmed it a sixth time and he requested more tests to confirm the health of the baby and check blood levels, asking us to return in 10 days. Because I had been bleeding at my normal period time and was only at 156 HCG, it was difficult to pinpoint the actual conception date, but we all figured I was somewhere within the first 6 weeks.
As we waited for test day to arrive, I continued to bleed and the concern and anxiety grew. Everytime I went to the bathroom, I was wiping blood and seeing small shreds of lining in the bowl. I didn't have any cramps, just what I took to be some normal pregnancy discomfort, which accompanied the sore breasts, slight nausea, and exhaustion. The only outlying symptom seemed to be the bleeding, but we had read numerous stories of women bleeding during pregnancy and having successful births. We tried to stay positive and calm, but planned on telling no one until we had more certain information. By Thursday my positivity and patience ran out after an angry phone call from a customer and uncharacteristic sobbing on my part. My husband suggested we tell my parents. They, naturally, were surprised- knowing we were not trying- but happy. Once they got the details of the health issues, they empathized with our concerns. The next day (yesterday) my father suggested I come in late to work. "Take your time," he says. So I laid down for a nap, suddenly feeling completely debilitated by exhaustion. When I woke up at noon I was practically dizzy from the tiredness, experiencing stronger cramps, and knowing that something was not right. Off to the ER I went.
Like all hospital visits, it was awkward. Colder than I would have liked and just weird to have a bunch of people staring and poking at my privates as I'm worried about bleeding out all over their nice clean floor. My poor husband was unable to do anything except sit there and be very confused about what a speculum is and why, in God's name, so many men would ever want to be OB's. Fortunately, there were a few gems in the experience: the wonderful ultrasound tech, Amy, who was my age (30 feeling like going on 25) whose compassion and peacefulness made me feel a lot less scared about things; the brief belief that I had seen our "Peanut" on the ultrasound screen and the sudden joy that came with that; the wonderful and loving support of my darling husband who I realized I need so very much more than this modern, independent, and industrious woman admits.
By 4:30 it was confirmed that I had a miscarriage. Bloodwork showed my HCG at 56 and tests didn't show a fetus. The doctor pushed the curtain aside, sat on the rolling chair and informed us of the situation in those typically hushed and presumptious doctor tones that comes with not knowing how a patient is going to respond to "bad news." We took it in stride, statistically knowing that miscarriage is not an uncommon thing. I suspect the doctor thought it was odd that I didn't cry, but I was grateful to put on my warm clothes again, take my husband's hand as we walked out the doors, and look forward to the beer awaiting me after an incredibly hard week.
It may seem harsh, but my husband and I don't completely believe that it's actually bad news that we lost our first child. It's certainly not what we hoped for ourselves, but we have peacefully set our minds to the belief that it is was for the highest and best that my body rejected that pregnancy. We weren't trying; we were having fun in our newlyweed bliss- going to microbreweries, motorcycle riding, hanging out with friends, water-skiing and doing all the things that might risk a pregnancy or- worse yet- damage it. The doctors seem to think that it was a progressive miscarriage and that I'd spent three weeks losing our child as I bled. In retrospect, it seems the most rational, logical explanation for the chaos of all the weeks prior. Fortunately, all the tests seem to show there's no abnormalities that would prevent us from conceiving a healthy child in the future.
In terms of our loss, we believe that our first child is still waiting to come through. We believe that it's soul is still sitting with us, dancing between us and waiting for a good, healthy, and whole body that it can enjoy here on Earth and best use to live out its soul purpose. We've prayerfully asked it to stick around, to prepare us, and to try again. I've committed to talking to it and consciously feeling it in my life, joyfully awaiting its next arrival and readying myself as a vessel for it's spirit. I am intending to keep it in mind with every decision as we go through these next couple months as we streamline our life before purposefully try to conceive again.
Our hearts are grateful for the experience- even if it resulted in a lost body- because it righted our minds. Even though it was only a week in our awareness, this pregnancy set our priorities straight. It is all too easy to say "it's not the right time to have a baby," but the real truth is that there is never a right or perfect time. This experience has given us purpose to look for the truly important decisions and helped us to see our amazing strength as a couple.
So, I give thanks to the soul of our child, still waiting to come through, and its attempt to get in on this first body. I give thanks for the understanding and sense of purpose I have gained. I bless our experience and thank God that my own body has been shown healthy and able, even if this child didn't make it. I'm grateful to know that I can conceive at all and peace in feeling that nothing is lost, but rather yet to be fully received.
I pray that all women with earthly children, angel children, and those still practicing to conceive may feel healthy, happy, and whole hearts in their experiences. Good or bad, all of these moments in our lives seem to be blessings to our own earthly experiences.
