Life and Death

Just last week, I had written out a beautifully touching, witty, fun post when we (officially) found out that we were pregnant. Unfortunately, this is not that post.

Within the past week or so, I was riding one of the biggest emotional roller coaster rides of my life. I had an idea that I was pregnant for a number of weeks, but resisted taking a test to make it official. When I finally peed on a stick I held my breath while reading the result. And, upon seeing those two little lines, I suddenly had a wave of emotions wash over me. Relief, nervousness, excitement, elation, and more than anything else probably, overwhelming fear.

It took most of that day for the news to sink in. Jon and I started discussing how we’d need to change our lifestyle, our finances, our furniture! In order to make room for a new little bundle of joy. How close will the babies be in age? Just 17 months – YIKES. It was a conversation we hadn’t planned on having for quite some time, yet I found myself enjoying it, nonetheless.

By the following day, we were getting excited. We were both on board, and whether too soon or not, we were ready to welcome this little one into our family in just 9 short months. I skipped through the rest of the week at work happier than ever. I had a dirty little secret that was making me smile inside and out. I was DYING to tell the world. WE’RE PREGNANT! But, I held back. We had told my dad about the news, but no one else, not even my mother (she was out of town), nor our best friends.

As the days flipped by, I could tell I was getting more and more emotionally attached to this little one. I called our doctor, spoke to him about some of my initial concerns, and made an appt for our first ultrasound. I got a journal (same one I had for Logan) and started filling in the dates to calculate when we conceived, and when we were due (May 1st). I signed up for the weekly pregnancy newsletter. I felt light "flutters" which were probably nothing more than gas this early in the game, yet it brought back so many old happy memories of what it was like to be pregnant! I started re-arranging the house furniture and rooms, within my head, to make room for another baby. I even went to a “Pregnant Mom’s Lunch”, lying to everyone that I wasn’t pregnant but just there to give my friend some moral support (which was true). I obsessed over when we should tell everyone our shocking news – our family, our close friends, everyone else on the Internets. I debated back and forth whether we should spill the beans before, or after, our trip to New Zealand.

I started looking at the decorations in Logan’s room, wondering if we were going to have a girl (and whether I’d need to buy additional, more girlie, stuff?) or if we were going to have another boy. I thought long and hard about whether I’d prefer having another boy or a girl. And, came to the conclusion that, I honestly didn’t care. Whereas before, I was leaning toward wanting a girl (because I thought I’d be able to relate to my first born more if she was a girl); now I wasn’t so sure. Could I relate to a little girl anymore, now that I have a boy? Wouldn’t it be fun for Logan to have a little brother to rough house with? Maybe two boys would be great fun. But, chances are, we wouldn’t have a third, so would I be okay with never having a daughter? Yes, all these thoughts and more, raced through my head. I even started thinking about names, all over again. And, which ones I liked best for a girl and which for a boy.

A little over a week ago, I was scared shitless about what our lives would be like with a second baby added to the mix. A few days later, I was impatient for the months to just skim by so we could meet Logan’s younger sibling.

So, you can imagine, how my highest of highs, suddenly plummeted to the lowest of lows, when I started bleeding Saturday morning. And, shortly after, I started cramping and feeling pretty achy all across my hips and lower back. Though some women do bleed early on in their pregnancy, I somehow - instantly - knew this was not good. Visions of sugarplums no longer danced in my head. I wanted to crawl into a dark little black hole and cry myself to sleep instead.

My OB happened to be on-call, so I was lucky enough to talk to him about what was happening. Unfortunately, since it’s still fairly early in the pregnancy, there’s not much we could do but sit and wait. I had some blood drawn on Saturday, and some more drawn yesterday, to monitor the pregnancy hormone, hCG, and see whether it was rising (still pregnant) or falling (miscarried).

It fell. Dramatically.

But I knew it would. I had hoped it wouldn't, but I knew it would. The bleeding and cramping has continued, throughout the weekend and this week. I have struggled going about my normal day. I have trouble carrying on any sort of real conversation. I keep thinking back to the past week of wonderful happiness and day-dreaming I had done. And how none of that is going to come true. I'm in a daze, not believing I've actually miscarried. I lost my hope, my desire, my will to live. I’ve been consumed by a dark depression; tears won’t stop streaming down my face.

And, I’ve had the mother of all headaches.

I know that, in the end, everything happens for a reason and it’s all for the best. That it was a blessing when we accidentally got pregnant but that we actually weren’t really ready. I know miscarriages are nature’s way of taking care of the unhealthy babies that are having problems developing. I know they are also a sign that the mother’s body isn’t ready for a(nother) pregnancy (especially after a traumatic delivery like I had with Logan, I'm sure). I know I should think positively, that this is nature's way of righting our course, that it’s not the right time just yet, that we now have a chance to plan the second one so much better, and that it will give us a chance at creating a stronger and healthier baby next time around.

I know, in my mind, that’s all true, yet none of it makes me feel any better, nor makes the grieving process any easier. My heart refuses to believe any of it and is instead screaming at me. Scraping and pounding on my chest inside.

But I know, that just like I embraced this pregnancy whole-heartedly in just a few short days, the pain will also, somehow, slowly melt away. That time is the best medicine. That writing it out here is about the only thing that’s made me feel any better so far.

That and, hugging my beautiful son, loving husband and pillow that muffles my cries and soaks up the days’ tears each night.