I've decided to blog about my troubles with conception. I'm hoping that I'll release all of the blogs once I'm pregnant and feel fairly certain that everything is progressing well. I wanted to blog about this, not only for myself, but for others who may also be silently dealing with the heartache as they try to conceive.
Infertility and miscarriage is so hush-hush in our society, especially among twenty somethings. You might expect someone in their late 30s or 40s to discuss trouble conceiving and fertility treatments, but no one believes it would be a problem in your 20s. Miscarriage is so private, so personal. No one announces a miscarriage on Facebook as their status. But I can't believe that I am the only one who has or who will experience the heartbreak of miscarriage. So this is my story:
I've wanted a baby (girl) since I was about ten years old. I don't really remember wanting a sister; I wanted her to be mine. I had always thought (and planned) I'd marry young and start a family, probably by the time I was twenty-two. Well, twenty-two came, I was still in college with no ring on my finger. I told myself that twenty-five was not too old to start a family; I could still fit five kids in before it was too late (or dangerous). Twenty-three comes and we finally get engaged. Twenty-four, and we are finally (finally) married. But marriage begins just a few short weeks before three full years of PT school. Sam is ardent that he does not want a baby while in school. At first I'm appeased; my heart is full just to be married. I finally have the man I love beside me as my husband. So I happily say okay, we will shelve the discussion on babies. I want at least a year without children for just the two of us anyway.
But the baby bug bites before the year is up. And it's like I can literally hear my biological clock ticking. As a meticulous planner I spend several months going back and forth planning when the perfect time would be to get pregnant. In the back of my mind, I've always been concerned I will struggle to get pregnant. My mom only had two children, she lost one herself. And I've never had a twenty-eight day cycle in my life! But I continued on, blindly optimistic that I can plan this as if I simply push a magic baby button and WHAM: baby TBD (to be delivered) nine months from then.
I convince Sam that the second year of school is a good time to start trying, as I sweetly tell him I'm sure it'll take a while, but secretly I am thinking if it takes a while I will freak out! May comes (the start of year two) and I tell myself that I'm not trying, I'm just not trying not to. When my cycle ends and I'm not pregnant, something clicks and I realize how desperate I am. I immediately jump in to crazy mode and start researching. I discover I should be tracking my basal body temperature (BBT). I go out and buy a thermometer. Sam tells me not to go crazy; I assure him I won't.
June, cycle one of tracking my BBT: no luck. June turns to July, which turns to August. August fades into September. My optimism has faded. I plan my annual exam with a new OB/GYN for October, and plan to discuss possible fertility problems. But suddenly I don't feel quite right. Could it be? I tell myself no, there's no way, and I'm not buying another box of these ridiculously expensive sticks to pee on. I'm late, but what's new? Each day of September I'm gaining more symptoms. I'm exhausted, not tired, but EXHAUSTED! I couldn't care less about food. I'm not vomiting, but I'm strangely nauseous all day. By Wednesday the 7th, I KNOW that I'm pregnant. I don't have all of the symptoms listed as early signs, but I've never felt like this before... I have to be pregnant.
I don't want to alarm anyone, and if it turns out I'm not pregnant, I don't want another item that everyone can add to the list of reasons I'm a hypochondriac. But I can't take it any longer. I go buy another box of tests. There is nothing like waiting for that stupid stick to change colors. But, no, not again. There's one dark line and a faint second line, almost invisible. So no, I'm not pregnant, right?
WRONG
What I didn't know at the time is that the depth of color in the line doesn't have to match the control like. And tests can vary. If you have a line, any line at all, develop within the time frame, it's a positive.
Thursday I have a dentist appointment before work. My stomach is gurgling so loud and I am so embarrassed, but I'm not hungry in the least. I stop to get a coffee before going to work as the fall Pumpkin Spice latte has just returned (yippee!) I continue to feel ultra pregnant, in fact, I'm miserable, but I tell myself that obviously I've wanted to get pregnant so badly that I've deluded myself into feeling this way. Friday comes, it is day thirty-nine. I'm still miserable, so I go out and buy an even more expensive test: the digital. You are supposed to wait until the morning to test, but once I have the box in my hand I can't stand it. But to my great surprise PREGNANT gleams back at me. I'm shocked, frantic, screaming, jumping, more screaming. I tell Sam, and in his quiet way, he's excited. I don't think the stick means too much to him. I doubt he will really grasp the PREGNANT memo until he sees a sonogram. But I am over the moon. I cannot wait until Monday to schedule an appointment with the OB.
For one glorious night I was going to be a momma. I was already planning how to tell our parents, planning maternity leave, etc. I went to bed with a happy heart. When I woke up, I just wanted to see the PREGNANT again. I used another digital test and got a "not pregnant". I immediately tested again... I used every pregnancy test I had in the house. They were all undeniably negative. I can't even describe what went through my mind. My heart broke and I immediately thought "how do I tell Sam?" I remember walking out of the bathroom and handing the test to Sam. I was so numb. I couldn't even process. Sam told me not to stress, but to call the doctor on Monday. This turned into the longest, most miserable weekend. I simply had to wait until Monday... but waiting can be deadly when you are alone with just your mind to ask 100 questions and second guess everything.
Monday morning I called the doctor and spoke with a nurse, Rhonda. She said not too worry, I needed a blood test to confirm one way or the other. I took an early lunch and went to the lab. The results were not available by the end of the day, so more waiting. Tuesday morning I went to work, but almost immediately received a phone call from Rhonda. She informed me that I was pregnant, but that I was either so incredibly early that I conceived last week, or I was in jeopardy of miscarrying. She suggested I go straight home to strict bed rest until the doctor calls.
I immediately burst into tears and went to notify my manager. She told me to go on home. I thought I was going to keep everything a secret from my mom until I could give her the good news, but Sam was in class and I needed someone to talk to. I called my mom, who was in Yellowstone Park, and told her everything. She comforted me and told me how sorry she was that she was across the country when I needed her. I told her to enjoy her vacation and that I'd keep her up-to-date.
I spent the rest of the day in bed questioning the coffee I drank and all the jumping I did (I was excited!). Dr Burns, the OBGYN, called me later that day. He told me that after hearing that I had a positive pregnant test Friday, he was pretty certain I would miscarry. The average pregnancy test will show a positive once levels of HCG reach 25mIU/ml. My blood test showed levels at 2mIU/ml. I'm not sure why the nurse even said that was a positive pregnancy test as everyone seems to indicate a level of at least 5mIU/ml indicates pregnancy. The doctor told me to contact him if I had any concerns, but that nature would probably runs it course and this would resolve naturally. He scheduled an appointment for Thursday and told me to take it easy and stay home until then. I cried, and prayed, and cried, and slept, and cried, and lay staring at the ceiling. About a half hour after my conversation with him, the bleeding started, and I knew this was real.
Thursday I went in and met Dr Burns. He said my blood levels had returned to normal and the ultrasound looked good. The miscarriage process was almost over. He told me not to worry and not to beat myself up. Lots of people have miscarriages, and at six weeks, it was probably due to chromosomal problems and nothing I did. He also cautioned me to stop trying for two cycles to allow my body time to get back in rhythm. And that was it. In the blink of an eye, my baby was gone, my joy was stolen, my future changed. And that is how my journey of trying to conceive began.
I'm currently in the midst of cycle two of abstaining from trying to conceive. It's so hard! I cannot help but want to try. But I'm terrified of losing another one. The pain has slowly started to ease. The fog I lived in for weeks has cleared. I still burst into tears if I talk about her (I hated referring to my baby as an "it". I decided she was a girl. If I get to heaven and find out I'm wrong, I'll apologize to him) But ultimately I'm trusting that the Lord knew what he was doing when he took my baby away. And I'm looking forward to the end of this cycle when we can try again.
