Content Warning: Pregnancy Loss
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Just as I began the process of healing after my miscarriage, we were packing to move houses and went through moving in the winter. It was stressful but exciting and I was filled with so much gratitude for our privilege and support to be able to buy our actual dream home on so much land, so close to one of my dearest friends.
A week or so into living in our new house, I started to feel a little funny. My breasts were tender and I had a raging patch of ezcema on my shin, which only happens when something is off hormonally (for me). I hadn't gotten my period yet since the miscarriage, but realized it had been 7 weeks since it happened. So I took a pregnancy test. Sure enough: PREGNANT. I was completely in denial that it was real because in that moment I realized I still hadnt processed the last loss. I was expecting to have to track everything for a while to even get pregnant again, like we had to for 7 months before. Within a few days of the at home test, I confirmed with a blood test and promptly started puking and dry heaving quite regularly. Everyone tells you that's a good sign even if it feels shitty.
At around 9 weeks, I got an ultrasound to date the pregnancy since we werent quite sure on the date of conception. The doctor confirmed I was 8 weeks 6 days along, with an estimated due date of Oct 6. I have always dreamed of an October baby, so I could have a baby that shared a birth month with my grandmother. All of my dreams were coming true. New house, new baby to complete our family. I continued to be incredible nauseous, gain weight, watch my breasts double in size, and hardly sleep due to the constant nausea. I called myself "happily miserable" because I was so grateful we conceived with relative ease, but also miserable at how symptomatic I was...and comforted by all the vomiting because that's how my other two viable pregnancies had been.
On Friday, March 25, I went in with Jesse for my 12-week ultrasound. We heard the heartbeat and saw some legs and arms. As we waited for someone to read the results, I offered the ultrasound tech to have them call me if we were making her next appointment late. I had to get off to support a client in labor, and Jesse had a phone call he didnt want to miss. She looked at me kindly and said "I am a little concerned with some of the things I am seeing, so my colleague is going to call in and talk to you about it before you go."
World started spinning, because I stopped breathing. I squeezed Jesse's hands and saw the worry in his eyes, as I fell onto the bed so as to not fall on the floor. When the phone rang, my heart started RACING and I started crying. I only remember bits and pieces of what she said to me. "I'm sorry to tell you this over the phone. No skull. Small brain. Exposed. 1 in 10,000 chance: Anencepholy."
I hung up, turned to Jesse, and collapsed onto the floor sobbing "I can't do this again" over and over. My baby will never meet their brother and sister. I will never hold this baby. This baby, who has a heartbeat, cannot live outside of my body on this planet. As all of these truths sunk into my broken heart, I couldn't breathe. I began gasping for air and couldn't see anything except the blur of my grief in my eyes. I thought my first miscarriage was the worst pain I could ever feel. Wrong. This is so much worse.
I am stuck in this pregnant body for 5 more days because the earliest the hospital could schedule a D&C for me is not until Friday, April 1. Yes, a D&C on April Fool's day, at 13 weeks and 1 day pregnant. The only reason I am writing this down so soon is because I have to get it out of my body. I cannot hold it all. My hips have the deepest ache I have ever felt. My head is splitting in half, and I'm still fucking nauseous. Every time a wave of nausea hits me I am full of rage that I am going through this. What did I do to deserve this? I don't deserve this and neither does my family. It's bullshit honestly. Why would a little soul make it's way into my body if it was never able to stay?
Writing helps me in times of turmoil. Sharing things through writing is easier for me, because when you name something out loud, it makes it so much more real. This is as real as it gets, but I don't ever see a time in the near or even distant future that I will be able to name this experience out loud without sobbing hysterically. I'm sure that time will come at some point...but not for a long while.
I look pregnant. Most people knew I was expecting. I openly shared it with many because of my naive confidence in this body and pregnancy and some unconcious belief that nothing this painful would happen to me after an already excrutiating experience. I was so wrong.
I have closed my heart for now. I cannot let too much in otherwise I cannot breathe. I am completely suffocated by how much it all hurts if I don't keep it out. The anger and the rage also protect my heart right now, and I know that's ok. I will not be able to start healing from this trauma until after I have the procedure to end this pregnancy and give this baby it's peace.
Please do not interpret this sharing as bravery. I do not feel brave. I am just who I am. I do not feel strong, but I have 2 children and an adoring husband who will get me through this hell I am in. And I have you. Everyone who supported us through the last loss, made it easier to breathe. Asking for help I suppose is bravery...that is my only act of bravery here. I need your help. I need your thoughts, your prayers if you pray, your check ins, your gift baskets, your gift cards...whatever it is you send my way. It all helps my heart from completely icing over.
Sharing this story isnt as much for myself, as it is for others who do not have the voice to say what they experience when they go through something like this. This terrible shitty situation is not my fault. I have asked all the questions regarding things I could have done differently, looked into genetics, and analyzed my own behavior in life. I don't deserve this. No one does. But everyone deserves support, and you can't get support without asking for it.
Thank you for reading. Please send me your love and strength this week, and especially on Friday, a day I assume will likely be the worst day of my life to date. I am scared, anxious and deeply saddened by terminating this very wanted, hard worked for pregnancy. I will need all the strength, love and support I can get to get through it all.
With love, and a very numb everything,
Sarah
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