Remembering..... (part 2)

Dates began to be obsessively important....in my head I was keeping track of due dates and death dates for each of my lost pregnancies. I was grasping at straws trying to find some way to come to terms with these babies who were not to be. How do you say goodbye to someone you have never met? And why does it hurt so badly to lose something that you never really had?

It took some time, but eventually I was pregnant again. It had been my hope to be pregnant before the due date of my last baby and I was! Somehow, I had thought that would make things easier. I went to early dr. appointments and found a viable pregnancy, saw the heartbeat on ultrasound at 6 wks. and was once again reassured that things were fine. I poured all of my heart and all of my faith into this new pregnancy. I was convinced that if I was good enough, I could control the outcome. When I started to bleed at 8 weeks, I prayed harder and went straight in for another ultrasound.

Once again, the screen was completely still.

I felt like I was trapped in the middle of a never-ending nightmare. Because I was already exhibiting some signs of miscarriage, the doctor felt it was best to let me finish it out at home on my own. I went home, put a movie on for my little ones, and collapsed into bed in tears. I remember feeling that it was so strange how everyone surrounds you and supports you for birth, but in the midst of a miscarriage where your body goes through all the same changes, you sit alone.....and afraid. I should have called someone to sit with me. I think it would have helped to just not have had to endure it alone.

After cramping all day, my temperature started rising indicating infection, and I ended up in the emergency room having yet another D&C. The doctor was insensitive enough to show my husband what he got out while I was under the influence of a drug called twilight. Unfortunately, I have a very vivid memory of his crass and insensitive handling of the remains of my baby that haunts me to this day. I came out of the drug haze with tears streaming down my cheeks as I came to terms with the loss of my third baby. As we drove home from the hospital that night, it hit me that this was the due date of my last baby......so much for being pregnant by that due date.

With the losses piling up, I felt like I needed to do all that was within my power to achieve the miracle that I was so desperately wanting. I did some research and found out that the nation's premier expert on recurrent miscarriage, Dr. Branch, practiced at a clinic 30 minutes from my house. Even though I didn't quite fit the profile for recurrent miscarriage (3 back to back miscarriages....I only had 2 because my tubal pregnancy didn't count as a miscarriage) I was able to get a referral to be seen by him. I finally felt like I had some control over the situation and that was what kept me going.

Dr. Branch ran all sorts of tests. I had to wait six months before I could try to get pregnant again in order for him to monitor my blood levels of different hormones. In the end, he felt like there was nothing wrong with me and recommended I try using natural progesterone to help counteract the tendencies to miscarry. It was the latest in a string of hopeful treatments for recurrent miscarriage and had shown some promise. Basically I had to start taking the progesterone on day 12 of my cycle and take it until day 28 when I would take a pregnancy test. If I was not pregnant, I was to stop taking the progesterone. After my first cycle of progesterone treatments, I ended up spiralling into a massive migraine when I went off it at day 28. After two days of intense headaches, I decided I could only try this one more time.

The next time, I had a positive pregnancy test at day 28. I was so relieved to be able to keep taking the progesterone and was sure this would be the pregnancy that would work. After all, I was doing absolutely everything that I could and was praying with all my might. I knew that God could take all my efforts and then make up the rest. I was at peace.

Dr. Branch scheduled me for a 6 wk. ultrasound, but by the morning of the appointment I had started to bleed. I was still hopeful, but in the end was not surprised to see the screen totally still. I miscarried on my own at home and genetic testing was done on the baby.

I am not really sure how I held things together. I came home and life went on. I was president of our church children's organization at the time and found myself in the front row at church 2 days later as the children put on their sacrament meeting program. A few people knew what I was going through, but most did not. After two people came to me that Sunday with problems in our organization that I needed to solve, I realized that I needed to go home. I couldn't blame others for their insensitivities when I was standing there pretending like nothing had happened. I went home and continued to supress my feelings.

The hurt was so deep and so painful that I found myself not wanting to face it. It would wake me up in the middle of the night and rather than think, I would go scrub my floors or deep clean the kitchen, anything to not have to face the pain.

Six weeks after my miscarriage, I went for a follow up appointment. Dr. Branch walked in and said, "Well, it looks like the baby was a girl." I was stunned. I knew they were doing genetic testing, but it hadn't occurred to me that I would know the gender of my baby. I had already said goodbye to 3 other babies without knowing their gender. I had loved each of them infinitely and felt their loss. Yet here was this little girl who could have been, and she became even more real.

I could not hold it together for the appointment. I really don't even know what happened. My husband was there and he carried on all the conversation with the doctor while I kept my head down and tears silently ran down my cheeks and pooled in my lap.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not stop crying. I mourned the loss of my little girl that night. I grieved for the sister and best friend Shelby would not have. The crying felt like a release that I desperately needed.

The next morning I contacted a local pregnancy and infant loss support group. I realized that I needed to work through my feelings rather than keep them all bottled up inside. I went to the first meeting and cried the entire time. I listened to other people stories and cried with them, then shared my own and cried some more. Surprisingly, it was helpful. I realized there were people who had suffered more than me. I found myself able to delight in the children that I did have. I went home more at peace than I had been in a long time.

I think it gave me the courage to try again.

(to be continued....)