Friday, August 26, 2016

The Waiting...

It's been forever since I've written. Sometimes I miss it. The outlet. The relationships. I consider myself lucky that I have still maintained a great deal of my relationships with the amazing women that I met through blogging. I am lucky to have these women. They know some of my deepest darkest secrets. There's something safe about bearing it all to someone who doesn't know your "real life". In a world of people who spent most of their time talking about everyone else's news, rather than their own, there's a comfort in knowing that you were able to get things off your chest without anything changing in your day to day.

I think that's what drew me to blogging in the first place. I always kept a journal. A diary. Some place where my deepest darkest secrets were kept. Sometimes I wonder if I should hunt them all down and burn them. Wondering what would happen if anyone found them. I cringe at some things that I wrote. Embarrassed for decisions I made. But, I try to remind myself that all of those decisions went into who I am today. Good or bad. They shaped me. Just like all of my life experiences. Everything that I have been through, has deeply contributed to the person that I have become.

I guess that's what brings me back here. These "experiences".

It's happening again.

Alex and I had been talking about adding to our family for  some time. The outside pressure from literally everyone we knew (including strangers at grocery stores) for us to have another baby was insane. Alex was more ready than I was. It just didn't feel right yet. But, we developed a timeline that we thought would work for us and moved forward. I had those small moments of panic when the time came. Like that moment before you jump out of a plane, where you wonder why you're doing this, and whether it is too late to turn back. But, I remembered that most of life's grandest adventures are scary, so we trudged on and I truly felt ready.

We followed the "rules". I read extensively about miscarriage risks. What could contribute to them. How long to wait. I started my prenatal vitamin the 3 months before we started trying, like I should. Then we waited. We had a timeline. A "perfect" month. One that would give me most of the Summer off without really impacting anything that we would want to do while I healed and we got used to being a family of four. (And when I say "we", I mean "me". Alex is of the "whenever" camp, and I am of the, "this is how I would like to plan my life to be". You know what they say God does when you plan right?)

So, we came to "perfect month" and I thought we had missed it. Things were weird. Things were different. Plans didn't go as I thought they would and I tried to remember that I have no control over this. That even if I do everything 100% perfect on my side, there is still some ridiculous chance of it actually happening, like 20% or something. So, I let it go. Until things changed.

And I knew. My gut. I knew. Everything was different. I knew. So I patiently waited for confirmation. But, even when I got it, I was unsettled. It wasn't dark enough. It wasn't clear enough. 74,000 tests later, I finally "relaxed" and accepted the news. I told Alex. We told Nicole and Jamie. And we went forward.

I told myself that I would let my past experiences shape this. That I was going to go through this with the utmost positivity. That despite my 50/50 record, this would work out alright. I called the doctor, made the appointments, but the problem is that she switched to a new practice. This new practice doesn't perform ultrasounds until 13 weeks, and that's only if you request that testing. I started to panic a little. That's too long. I explained my situation, I explained my past, and they agreed to do blood work. Hoping to score an early ultrasound, I went through the steps and waited for the results.

That's when the dread kicked in. The worry. Mother's intuition, right? The numbers came back low. So low. 137. As is protocol, they have you come back 2 days later, because you can tell nothing from one blood draw. I tried to quiet my worry, but I was unsettled. The next number, 72 hours later, 240. It didn't double.

I called the doctor immediately so that she could tell me that it was OK. That it was normal, they range greatly, that it almost doubled so it was close enough. I waited. Nothing. I called the next day. Nothing. Eight-thirty last night I received an email from her. She stated that my levels were low and not doubling like they should and I needed to go back today to get it drawn again. I tried to quiet the worry again. This happens all the time. Some are just slow starters. It would be OK.

But, when I was driving home I lost it. It was all too much. I couldn't believe that I was "here" again. I called my mom and cried. I wanted her to know about it before "it" didn't exist anymore, if it ever did. We had planned on telling our parents this weekend. Our friends next weekend. Wanting to not wait to announce our news this time. Wanting to make sure that we had an army of love and support around us, no matter what the outcome. I don't even think we will get there. I planned to announce early, but apparently not early enough.

So, I'm here. 5 weeks. Waiting to hear. I had no less than 8 million emails today, so far. None of them the test results. I didn't go into work today. I've just been wandering. I ran some errands. Got my nails done. Now I'm sitting eating lunch alone and writing. Waiting. No one knows where I am. I feel alone. All alone. I know I have people "with" me, but there's something so isolating knowing that whatever is going on, is going on in your own body. You're helpless. So is everyone else, but it's not their body.

I'm just wondering why? Why am I here again? Why do we need to do this again? Why can't I just have a normal, wonderful happy experience? Why does this have to be filled with dread and worry? Why are the minutes ticking away so slowly?

It was so hard before. So hard to pull myself out of that deep, dark, hateful hole that I was in. I didn't have John last time. While on some levels, I believe that it won't "allow" be to sink so low, I also know that still needing to be a mom to my one sweet blessing here on Earth, that I won't be able to fall apart like I know I'll need. There's no time for that when you're a mom.

Before, I found comfort in the fact that I have a large amount of friends that had been through it before. A fucked up club that we all belonged to against our will. But we were together in it. We laughed. We cried. We rallied around each other when we needed it. We shared. We drank. We held each other up. We got through it. But, this brings me into a new club. The "multiple miscarriage" club. Now it's a "thing". Not a one-off. Not a freak accident. Not a terrible memory buried underneath all of the baby snuggles from the babies that did make it. Now it's a "thing". A history. 50/50 to 1 in 3. I'm a new statistic. A new bracket. A new level of hell.

I just want to know why. Why is this year so terrible? Why did we lose Nanny and now my baby? Let's not even get into the other shitty things that have happened. We should be celebrating. The end of a shitty 6 months and finishing the year with a bang. Alex finally getting a new job. No more weekends. Early days. Being more of a family. A new beginning. A new adventure. A new baby. We should be rejoicing. Planning. Dreaming. Arguing over names. Starting lovingly at our sweet boy and feeling so damned lucky that we get to do it all over again.

Instead I wait. Alone. To find my fate. More blood draws? Ultrasound? Procedures? Doctors' visits? Changed plans? What will it be?

And here we go....the results are in...

The dropped. It's over.

1 comment:

  1. I'm just now catching up and saw this :( I'm so so sorry to read this. I only had the one miscarriage which was awful and I was terrified when I got pregnant with Brooks, I can't imagine how I would have handled another loss. I'm thinking of you sweetie and pray you get your rainbow baby soon.


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