Silver Linings

8/2/12 

Monday, July 30th, 2012

Our very first appointment with the Loudoun Midwives.  I was excited and eager for our appointment, feeling almost like it was the official kick off to our pregnancy.  We had every intention of getting a more solid answer on our expected due date then share our happy news with our remaining friends and family via strategic picture updates on our Facebook profiles.  That is not, however, what happened.

During our meeting with our midwife she mentioned we could opt to have an ultra sound to get a better idea of how far along we were, and it just so happened their technician had an available time slot right then.  We moved down the hall and prepared for our first look at the baby.  The technician was great but she was having trouble getting a clear enough view for an accurate size reading of the fetus (darn my uncooperative body parts) and called the hospital across the street to see if we could get an appointment with their higher tech equipment.  Lucky strike number two, they had time to see us right away so we packed up and drove across the street with an ultrasound order in hand.

By then I was feeling pretty peckish and anxious, feeling my supposedly quick appointment was turning into a more significant late arrival to work than I had anticipated.  When we checked in we were told it may be a little wait since they had to fit us in between scheduled appointments and the receptionist offered to get me some crackers.  Before she could come back they were ready for us and she handed off my little snack as I passed her down the hall.  Feeling proficient at the process by this point I got ready for the ultrasound in record time and marveled at the speed the technician worked to get the views and measurements she needed.  Though no one had made any mention of hearing a heartbeat and having no experience with the high tech equipment she was using, I couldn't help but notice that at some views I could see a flash of red or blue that I thought I knew indicated blood flow in some capacity.  I also couldn't help notice with a sinking heart that these flashes were not occurring in the vicinity of embryo where I thought they should be.  Shaking it off as not understanding how the machine works I kept my focus on watching her work.

In next to no time she was done but not happy with what she saw; the size of the gestational sack indicated the pregnancy being about where we thought, a little over 8 weeks, but the embryo size was indicative of 6 weeks and there was no heartbeat present.  Just like that.  No preamble, no mincing of words, a solid blow to my stomach and all the air was gone from my lungs.  The technician cleaned up the equipment, gestured to a box of tissues and told us the doctor would speak with us shortly to explain everything.  I sat on the edge of the bed, light headed and tingling, and looked at Clif who could only look back.

We were escorted down the hall to our 5th room of the day which was unlike any of the others we'd been in; 3 chairs, 2 tables and a loveseat.  No beds, no counters, no supplies or equipment.  The doctor arrived fairly quickly and confirmed our fear, we'd lost the baby.  I was numb and stared at him, wide-eyed to stem the flood of tears and trying hard to focus on what he was telling us.  I lost the battle against the tears before he could finish leaving the room and he had to come back with a box of tissues.  It took me a few moments to compose myself enough to leave the office, Clif remained together, strong and steadfast.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur.  At this point I wasn't feeling up to returning to work and we went home where Clif fixed me a "margarita" (in quotations because, let's be honest, it was a wine glass of tequila rimmed with salt and barely a splash of mix).  I spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch with the tv, alternating between sobs and numb indifference.  My family was amazing and took on some responsibility of spreading the news so I wouldn't have to relive it again and again.

For the first time I can remember I got on my knees to pray by my bed.  I started by asking God for the gift of what Clif and I really wanted, to be able to have our own child.  I quickly followed with a request for the more significant gift of strength and acceptance of His will over ours, whatever it might be.  I prayed for a dear friend who was going through some issues that were leading her to believe she would not be able to get pregnant and for someone I knew who had a condition that would never allow them the chance.  Clif and I were sad but it was important to keep perspective and take the opportunity to lift those who were in darker places than we were.

I didn't get much sleep that night and was up for most of it feeling horribly sick, my body physically rebelling.

Tuesday, July 31st, 2012

I went to work.  Devastated, uncertain but mostly calloused and numb and honestly, at least it was a distraction.  I don't know how I could have spent another day in my nightgown on the couch.  Let me say how glad I am I made that choice.  I never could have imagined the flood of love and support from my co-workers and friends, each offering a hug, best wishes and an invitation to talk to them at any time, ask them if there was anything they could do for us.  I was even more floored by the number of times I was supported by people who shared their personal story of having gone through the exact same thing.  Reading statistics of how common miscarriages are is one thing, experiencing how common it is is another thing entirely.  It opened my eyes to the fact that no matter how sad and unpleasant a loss is, in a large way it is just part of the entire process, and that was strangely comforting.

My department got me flowers and a card to show their support and encouragement and people stopped by my office or left me messages online and my phone with warm wishes, each one lifting me up a little bit higher.  In the middle of the day I heard from the friend who I'd prayed for the night before; her results were back and clear, her fears and anxieties relieved which brought me no small amount of joy and thanks.  By the end of the day I felt completely different than I had starting the day.  Hopeful, thankful, blessed, sad but understanding and ready to try again.

I didn't sleep much better and my body was still physically rebelling but I was thankful for a sense of peace.

Wednesday, August 1st, 2012

Clif and I had a consultation appointment to determine our next step.  We had three choices on the table; 1. let my body process on its own time which could take up to several weeks of waiting. 2. opt for the surgical procedure that would remove the pregnancy and give us an opportunity to send tissue to be tested for any genetic abnormalities that may, or may not give us any beneficial information to the reason for the miscarriage. 3. medically induce contractions so we could have the control of when and where it happened.

Initially we'd made the knee jerk reaction to have the surgical procedure because that is what the specialist suggested.  After taking some time to do research, process the information and learn how common 1 or more miscarriages were before a successful pregnancy the surgical option dropped to the bottom of the list.  There was no great reason to feel we needed the testing, we just needed to try again.  That said, waiting for my body to decide when to reject was not very favorable, either, so I was glad for the middle-road option.

I spent the better portion of the day in bed or on the couch with a heating pad and medication to try to stay ahead of the pain curve (trying to catch up when you get too far behind is nearly impossible) and did a fairly decent job.  I alternated between feeling pretty miserable and surprisingly ok and made it through what I'd anticipated to be a horrific day with a decent amount of grace and calm.

I had the best night's rest I'd had all week.

Thursday, August 2nd, 2012

I feel better than I think I should, which is either excellent or scary news.  I am thankful that I don't feel like I lost a game of chicken with a Mac truck, but I'm nervous it means I may not have passed everything I needed to which further means I may still have to have the surgical procedure anyway.  We will know better next week when we get a blood test to check the hormone levels to see if they have come back down to zero.

In the meantime I am thankful for the mental and emotional place I've reached, a place I couldn't have reached without Clif being my rock and the love of friends and family.  While I am eager for this particular chapter to be over so we can try again I am humbled and thankful for the unexpected blessings this experience has brought us that we wouldn't have had otherwise.