I haven’t blogged in a long time. Like a really, really long time.
There was always one excuse after the other. I was too busy, wasn’t feeling inspired and so forth and so on.
I also forgot how important writing was to me. How it provides an outlet for me to write about my feelings. How maybe someone somewhere is out there reading it too that might be able to relate. And so here I am.
I didn’t know how to start this blog post. Heck, I still don’t know how to start it.
I had a miscarriage.
It is still a little weird admitting it out loud and I’m hoping writing about it will help me continue to heal.
After feeling extremely weird for a few days I decided to take a pregnancy test before the crack of dawn on September 30th. It came back positive almost immediately and I remember crying tears of joy and being too excited to go back to sleep.
So what did I do? I woke my husband up at 5:30 a.m. and told him that he was going to be a dad. And throughout the rest of the day, told immediate family and a few friends that we were expecting.
My husband and I began making plans on how we were going to tell the rest of our families and friends about our bundle and joy and which bedroom in our house would get turned into a nursery. While this was an extremely joyous occasion, it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing.
A few days after taking multiple pregnancy tests, I felt weird sharp pains in my stomach. I didn’t want to take any chances and decided to go to the doctor to confirm the pregnancy and to get checked out. After several blood tests and an ultrasound, it seemed that everything was okay and I could breathe a little easier. This was on top of the common symptoms that women usually get when they are newly pregnant. But I didn’t want to seem ungrateful because I know how extremely lucky I was to even be pregnant.
That all lasted until October 24th.
On October 24th, my husband and I went to a routine doctor’s appointment to have an ultrasound and to see the baby. Our ultrasound technician mentioned that the baby was measuring behind which I thought made sense since I knew my cycles were longer than the norm. She wanted us to come back the following week to see if anything had changed and to hopefully hear the heartbeat. Something told me that something was wrong but I tried to feed off my husband’s optimistic attitude that everything would be fine.
On October 30th, I attended the follow-up ultrasound appointment by myself since my husband had to go to work at the last minute. When the ultrasound technician told me that there had been no changes from last week and that I had had a missed miscarriage, I didn’t know what to do.
Gone were the dreams of getting to meet our baby in June 2018. Gone were the predictions of what our baby’s personality would be or whose features he or she might have. All that was left was an emptiness that I never expected. Although the stats are available that show how common a miscarriage is, you never think it will happen until it happens to you (or at least that was my experience).
I have to say that I am so incredibly thankful for the support system I have or else I don’t know where I would be. My husband has been so strong throughout this trying time even though he is also processing losing our baby as well. The amount of support that we have gotten from family and friends (some that knew and some that didn’t) has been a tremendous help and I am forever grateful.
Things over the last two weeks haven’t been easy or predictable (including an unplanned trip to the emergency room on November 7th) and I now cry at the drop of a hat. I still have my health, my family, and my friends. So I continue to try to keep one foot in front of the other as I try to heal.