Pregnancy #2

It seemed like a no brainer for us to try and get pregnant as soon as we could again. Of course it brought a lot of fears but I honestly feel like I'm up against a time bomb. I worry how long my body will be able to function without severe consequences from Lupus.

Soo just like clock work, we tried again. I took a pregnancy test on Sunday, May 10, 2020 and it had the most faint second line. Of course we were thrilled, a second chance, but we also were hit with a ton of worry. Oddly enough, I feel more peace this time around. This is something I have VERY LITTLE control of, and I'm just going to enjoy every single second.

Of course this Mother's Day hasn't turned out like I was hoping it would. I'm not nearly 20 weeks pregnant, I don't have my husband here with me, but I do have hope ahead. That's something I'll always have and I can't wait to hopefully snuggle this sweet rainbow babe in January.

June 8 - Well, just like that I'm not pregnant again. Later on in the week after I found out I was pregnant I started having some really annoying lower abdomen pain. Of course I panicked that it was ectopic, and after a few sleepless nights I had an appointment to see my OB on May 19. She didn't seem super worried and so she decided on a serial HCG blood draw to see if my levels were doubling correctly.

First HCG draw 264, second HCG draw 455. Looked great! Phew no need to worry. So I went on trying to be brave and embrace this whole pregnancy thing again.

May 31 - I have a tiny bit of spotting. Literally as we were on our way out the door to take Logan back to the airport I go to the bathroom and find a little bit of blood. I'm not really nervous, at all. I can tell Logan is worried, but I reassure him everything is TOTALLY FINE!

June 1 - Bleeding has stopped, I never had any cramping. I shoot my OB an email letting her know but I don't think much of it. Later that day I go to the bathroom again, and there is quite a bit of blood. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me this time. I reassure myself it's fine, this can be totally normal and try and push it out of my head.

Well, it's not slowing down or stopping. I go to sleep hoping I awake to a better scenario. Finn wakes me up at 1:30 am and I can tell it's not a good situation. I start to panic, I'm alone in St. Louis, Logan is 3 hours away with NO way to get here. What do I do?! Am I hemorrhaging? I had the worst metallic taste in my mouth. I call Logan and for some reason by the grace of God he answers. We make arrangements for him to fly home that morning at 7 am.

June 2 -  I pick Logan up from the airport at 8 am. We both don't have much to say, how could this be happening again. We swing by Panera bread, hardly any of it got ate we just sit around looking at each other. Logan calls the OB to try and figure out what we do, I was supposed to have my 8 week appointment in a few days. They get us scheduled for the next day at noon.

June 3 - Nothing is more exciting than being told to have a full bladder for an ultrasound... having a painfully full bladder and then being told to empty it. An ultrasound confirms there is no gestational sac. THANKFULLY I have passed everything and I will not need a D&C. Next we meet with Dr. Phillips, right off the bat she agrees something is way off. She gives me the diagnosis of "recurrent miscarriages". We all strongly agree this has to be Lupus related or clotting disorder of some sort. We make plans to run all new labs, and meet with the Fetal Medicine Doc again.

June 8 - This miscarriage has been so different, but yet not any easier. My mental health has struggled tremendously, and my desire to ever move forward seems gone. I don't know what the future looks like, I don't know how much heartbreak we can keep enduring. It's hard to try and keep the mindset of one day at a time, but here we are.

When women discover that I lost a baby during the 20th week of pregnancy, they will often open up to me about their own loss, but reduce its significance by saying they were “only” six weeks, eight weeks, or fill-in-the-blank weeks pregnant when their loss occurred. They usually follow up that “only” statement by saying something along the lines of how their loss does not compare to mine.

And I guess I’ve said or thought some variation of the same thing. When discussing my early loss versus my later loss, I’ve reduced it to being nothing more than a medical mishap that occurred when I was “only” six weeks pregnant. And when hearing of someone else’s full-term loss, I’ve considered how much worse it might have been to lose my baby at 40 weeks instead of at “only” 20 weeks.
But that’s where the problem lies. It’s in the comparison. It’s in thinking that one pregnancy, one life, is more significant than another based on its duration. It’s in thinking that the loss of a baby who was too small to be seen, or held, is less significant than the baby who was big enough for a crib, but was laid in a casket instead.
The truth is that my losses are no more or less significant than anyone else’s. Whether it was an early loss or a late loss, I’ve missed out on the same things as every other loss mom. I’ve missed a lifetime of getting to know two of my children. I’ve missed milestones and celebrations. I’ve missed the mundane moments that would have made up the majority of memories with the two babies who didn’t make it home.
I don’t know the details of anyone else’s loss, nor can I say I know exactly how they were affected by loss. But I do know that there is no “only” in pregnancy loss. Not in mine or anyone else’s.
There is “already.” There was a pregnancy that had already progressed to six, or eight, or twenty weeks along.

There was already life as evidenced by two pink lines. The same pink lines that had already alerted a woman to her role as mother.
There was already the sound of a heartbeat, whether it beat for a day, a month, or longer.
There was already a connection between mother and baby.
And there was already love planted deeply in a mother's heart. A love that had already begun to grow from the moment the first sign of life was displayed in the once empty window of a pregnancy test.
It doesn't matter if a pregnancy "only" lasted for a few weeks. It doesn't matter if it was an early loss or a late loss.
What matters is that there was already a baby who was loved immensely. And love cannot be measured in weeks.
-abeautifullyburdenedlife