So tired.

This weekend I drove upstate to my aunt's house for a visit with my extended family.  Keep in mind that most of them do not know about my pregnancy and miscarriage experience.  This isn't because I'm ashamed or don't think it's appropriate to discuss the miscarriage, but moreso because I never got the chance to share the good news with them that we were expecting, and so didn't want their first exposure to our decision about growing our family to be negative.

When I got there, some of my family members commented on how tired I looked.  It was true, I hadn't slept well the night before thanks to a pulled muscle in my neck.

I am so tired.

I'm tired of being sad and tired of being angry.  And I'm tired of pretending that I'm not either of those things.  I'm really tired of crying, but also so tired of trying to hold my tears in.

When we first experienced our miscarriage in June, many kind people I turned to for support expressed their sympathy and encouraged me that things would get better with time.  I wanted to believe that, but when we got the call earlier this month about the genetic testing results, everything suddenly got worse, all over again.

Some happiness researchers suggest that acting the way you want to feel has a big impact on how you will actually feel.  Unfortunately in this case, neither acting happy nor acting un-sad is working for me.  I'm just all the more tired from plastering on a happy face while I got about my days, and I'm not sure how much longer I can "fake it till I make it". 

I really hope I can get back to my "normal" self soon, whatever that is.  I've tried really hard to get back to my typical routine, start once again to exercise consistently, eat more healthily, and spend time doing activities I enjoy.  And when I'm doing those things, I feel almost like my old self.  It's the in-between times and the quiet times at night as I will myself to fall asleep without placing my hand on my stomach or shedding tears that are the hardest.  Trying to lead a "normal" life is just so tiring.

Only One First

It's been a little over one month since our miscarriage and a part of me still doesn't (want to) believe this happened. I am so upset that this happened to us but it's especially hard that it happened to our first pregnancy.

Thinking about it, there are few things in life that can so easily cause so much pure joy... and learning that we were expecting a baby was certainly one of them in our case.  We hadn't told many people, but the few we had were, like us, simply giddy at the news.  My husband and I were over the moon with delight knowing that we would become a family of three later this year.  To have had such a thrilling experience interrupted so abruptly was emotionally painful, apart from the actual pain we experienced from the occurrence of the miscarriage.  It still is a huge source of anger for me.  It's just not fair.  We hadn't even had the chance to share our terrific news with all of our loves ones before the news turned terrible.

On the other hand, those we did share the exciting news with were so supportive!  It broke my heart to have to bring their hopes crashing down to Earth from Cloud 9.  I immediately regretted sharing the news with them in the first place.  This may sound petty, but I have all these great photos and some really heartfelt video clips of how we we creatively shared the news with both of our moms and my brother (with personalized matching t-shirts during our joint mother's day celebration!), my 91 year old grandma (who has been patiently waiting for a great grandchild to come into her life and who literally prayed to God when I told her the news that she would still be around in December to meet the baby), my aunt, uncle and cousin (who were great sports about agreeing to participate in a "top secret" video-conference with me to "beta test" a new product related to my job - that was my cover for getting them all on the laptop together for filming) -- who were all SO happy!  I should smile at the thought of these memories, not feel overcome with sadness.  I should be organizing the photos into scrap books and creating a video montage of the exciting news as it's spread through our families, to watch on a special 1st birthday, or to show to our future baby.  What am I supposed to do with all of those photos, videos and creative ideas now???

I feel like this miscarriage experience completely ruined my idea of "pregnancy" and ruined the excitement of any pregnancies I may (hopefully) have in the future.  Will I ever be as blissfully hopeful again?  If I am lucky enough to get pregnant again, will I be filled with dread and fear 24/7?  Will we feel comfortable telling anyone about it, if there is a next time?  That sounds like an awful way to think about the future, but that's what I do think about.

There will only ever be one "first" pregnancy for us, and this was it.  Even though it didn't work out as we hoped and dreamed, that's it.  No rewind button.  No do-overs.  This horrible experience is the only "first pregnancy" we'll ever have, and although our baby is gone forever, it feels as if my anger and disappointment about how this pregnancy ended will always haunt me.  It's just not fair.

Check-In

{originally written June 20, 2013}

I'm doing better physically and somewhat mentally too {no more crying attacks on a daily basis}, but really still very confused, angry, and most of all very sad.  Yesterday would've been 13 weeks, and I can't help thinking about who I'd be sharing the good news with, how I'd be shopping for maternity clothes, growing a noticeable belly, discussing name ideas...

I went for my follow-up yesterday and supposedly everything was okay, which I guess is good {though I'm not sure how she even knew that by a simple 3-minute cervical exam with no ultrasound...} but to be honest I keep hoping this is all a bad nightmare and I'll wake up one morning and be pregnant again.

I know in my head I am living the nightmare, but really truly wish it was the other way around.  I honestly would not wish this experience on my worst enemy.

Horoscopes

OK train monitor horoscopes, you're driving me mad.  First you rub it in my face that I can travel anywhere I'd like, thanks to not having a baby on board.  Then 2 days later you tell me to "Press the pause button on any travel plans you've been making. Things may change."

For a minute, I wondered if there could be some mistake.  Could I still be pregnant?  Is it possible that all that bleeding wasn't a miscarriage at all?  Even if that were true (which I know in my head is not true but did briefly hope in my heart is possible), there was the MVA.

But why else would I have to press the pause button on travel plans???  Does this mean perhaps I might become pregnant again, soon?  Or maybe it means I'll have another miscarriage.  Or will I need fertility treatments?!  The truth is, nobody knows.

Here's a better question:  why am I even stressing about the myriad of possible circumstances that could cause me to cancel travel plans, because of a stupid train monitor horoscope????  I don't think these types of thought patterns are normal.  Am I losing my mind, or is this part of the normal grieving process?  Oh how I wish I could just rewind the clock a month, and be pregnant and happy again...  Will that ever happen?

The Day After

This was our first pregnancy and I'm absolutely devastated. I feel so confused because we had a healthy heartbeat of 141 at the 8 week ultrasound last month, and although I had brown spotting on and off since the beginning, I'd read online it was not uncommon and my OB didn't seem too concerned. I didn't have any morning sickness (except for a couple days where I felt a little queasy, but nothing too bad at all), though was tired and had other typical symptoms like sore breasts, frequent urination, belly bloating, and light headaches (which I hardly ever get). I just don't understand what went wrong because the first ultrasound seemed great, I was taking all my vitamins, drinking tons of water, and eating better than I think I've eaten in my life. My husband and I were religiously ensuring that I got 75 grams of protein a day and I didn't "cheat" on any dietary no-nos -- in fact I’ve been eating healthier and drinking more water than I ever remember. Although I realized before getting pregnant that miscarriages were always a possibility, I stupidly tricked myself into believing we were almost in the clear after the 8 week ultrasound detected a healthy heartbeat.

Today I am no longer in physical pain, but feel like an emotional basket case and really just want to stay in bed crying. My husband went back to work today and I feel so alone, partly because hardly anybody knew about the pregnancy and so we don't want to tell a lot of people about the miscarriage either. Our moms know, but don't live nearby, and I called my bff to break the news on Tuesday. She has been very supportive by checking in on me, and it helps to know she went through this 8 years ago before having her beautiful girls, but she also lives several hours away from me.

I was supposed to work from home today and tomorrow, but when I opened my laptop and saw all the work that had piled up, I couldn’t take it.... I broke down crying from a combination of frustration/anger/sadness/exhaustion/stress, and ended up emailing my director letting her know that I had an urgent medical situation and couldn’t work the rest of the week, despite the huge backlog of work I had and how strapped our team was for resources. To my surprise (I’m still not sure why I expected any less -- I think I was just so overwhelmed), she was incredibly supportive and knowing I didn’t have to deal with work for the next couple days provided some much-needed relief.

I spent the rest of the day in my pajamas, crying and watching soap operas.

In my brain, I understand that miscarriages are more common than they are discussed, and that chances are likely that the pregnancy wasn’t viable due to chromosomal abnormalities versus something I did or didn’t do. But I can’t help but wondering. What if we didn’t go to DR? What if I ate or drank something there that poisoned my baby? What if I can’t get pregnant again, or can’t carry a pregnancy to term? Just because many women go on to have healthy babies after a miscarriage doesn’t guarantee that I will.

Officially a Miscarriage

Monday morning when I woke to urinate there was a lot of red blood but still no pain. I was able to shower and get dressed before calling my OB as soon as they opened to schedule an 11am appointment. I was still bleeding, but mostly only during urination. But, as soon as my husband left for work -- a little over an hour before my appointment I started having mild-moderate cramping. To me, it felt like constipation. I sat on the toilet eating a whole wheat English muffin, using all the mind power I could muster to try to remain calm and try to have a bowel movement, but nothing was coming out. The pain didn’t ease up, so I took a cab from home to the doctor’s office. The 30 minute ride was unbearable and as we got closer I knew something didn’t feel right. By the time I arrived at the dr's office I could feel that I was bleeding heavily. I can picture vividly my husband's face as I exited the elevator and told him that I could feel the bleeding. I burst into tears and was ushered in to provide a urine sample. As expected, it was full of blood. The nurse took my BP and weight (I still don’t understand why that was important) and left me in an exam room waiting for the doctor. The examination was incredibly painful -- I remember crying out that it hurt while the doctor tried to check to see if my cervix was still closed. I’m not sure she ever felt it, and she didn’t say much except to instruct us to go into the sonogram room. At this point, I still don’t think I knew what was about to happen.

I can’t remember what happened next -- the day turned into a blur. I’m not sure if the sono tech checked me before or after speaking, but I do remember her saying it was obvious my body was trying to get rid of the baby... I was having a miscarriage. This statement shocked me and broke my heart at the same time. I remember crying out and my husband holding my hand. He held my hand a lot over the next few days, and thinking back I’m honestly not sure how we was so strong when I was such a mess.

The OB sent me home with 4 methotrexate pills to take every 6 hours and orders to come back the following day for an ultrasound to check on progress.