Perseverance

On a (somewhat) lighter note….

I know my posts so far have been kind of “heavy”, and even I’m getting a little overwhelmed with them, so here’s a topic that is just as important to me, but a little "happier." (and in writing this post, I have learned a few things I didn't know I already knew) :)

The past month has been crazy! (In a good way… for the most part). I’ve (somehow) had a lot of time to reflect on my life as a military spouse. If you knew me before circa 2007, you know that I never “dreamed” of being a military spouse. It never really sounded appealing. Don’t get me wrong, I have always admired and respected military families, I just never thought I’d be in one myself.

I did date a Marine for a short time in college… he left for Iraq, called me a few times while he was there and then I never heard from him again…. I scoured the fallen soldier web page for months, but since I didn’t know his last name, I didn’t have much luck… I know how crazy that sounds. I dated a guy and didn’t even know his last name? I’ve since learned to get those details before agreeing to ride in a car with anyone. #Lifelessons.

Anyway, back to being a military spouse. Moving all over the country; being separated from your spouse for days, months, even years; living in what seemed to be less than desirable places,only to miss the simplicity, relationships and memories I gained from each of them; doing most everything alone; the risk of saying goodbye to your spouse and never seeing them again. Doesn’t that sound great? I never thought so. So, I was content with the idea of one day marrying a 9-5er.

Then I met my husband.

At the time, he was a medical claims adjuster at Geico… boring, but safe.  On our first date he made a point to make me understand his goals in life. He was going to be an F16 pilot in the USAF. Haha, you’re cute Mr. Claims Adjuster. I played along and let him know that I would one day single handedly cure cancer, HIV, and inequality. He was really cute, so I could look past the wild fansaties. *For the record, he also told me that once he retired from flying F16’s, he would be a pilot for Virgin Galactic and fly people into space. At this point, he had about 40 hours in a Bonanza….

Joke’s on me.

It was a long, tedious, and many times heartbreaking process. Interviewing as a civilian at Air Force bases all ove the US for that rare chance at being hired as an F16 pilot. He received more rejection letters than we like to admit, but he has saved them all to “show our future children that things worth having don’t come easy.”

I fell in love with his drive and dedication. I’d finally met my match.

After a handful of rejections, he decided to prove his dedication. He enlisted in the Oklahoma Air National Guard… Oh joy. We’d only been dating for a year. Why me? And why, of all places, Oklahoma?! Oklahoma was close and had “the best mission.”

I put my big girl panties on and supported him. It could be worse! (This has become my mantra).

I supported him through Basic Training (8 weeks of ONLY communicating through letters…. very “The Notebook-ish” :), Tech School, one weekend a month and two weeks a year while he continued to interview with Oklahoma and many other units over the next few years.

No luck. Heartbreaking. But he always took it in stride.

He almost gave up with only a year and a half left to meet the age qualification (you can no longer be hired after the age of 29), but he decided to persevere. He went to a few more interviews… Wisconsin, San Antonio, and some other place that didn’t interest me. Again, no luck, BUT he was selected as alternate for the San Antonio unit. It was a long shot, but there was hope.

Then the call came!

6 months after the San Antonio interview, Adam called me while I was at work and informed me that the original pilot hired by the San Antonio unit had been disqualified so now he would be their guy! Holy geezus! I was ecstatic! He didn’t seem as thrilled… It was still early, there were a lot of hurdles to jump before this could be real to him (funny how much that resonates with me now… related to pregnancy).  So, I celebrated in silence and supported him through the hurdles.

Officer Candidate School (8 weeks in Alabama). Survival Evasion Resistance and Escape School (1 month in Washington). Water Survival (3 says in Florida). Initial Flight Screening (3 weeks in Colorado). Specialized Undergraduate Pilot Training (13 months in Mississippi). Introductory to Fighter Fundamentals (6 weeks in Mississippi).

And here we are. The B Course (9 months in Arizona). Where he will train in the F16. That crazy dream of Mr. Claims Adjuster has come full circle and I could not be more proud of the dedication and sacrifice he’s made to get here. Looks like I have some catching up to do…

Looking back on the last 6 years, it is incredible what we’ve overcome (because meanwhile.. we got married, adopted a dog, lost a baby, traveled, I earned 2 masters degrees and became a nursing professor, we lived apart for 2 years, and finally recently moved across 3 states). It puts things into perspective. It was difficult (unbearable) at times, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Being a military spouse has been the most incredible experience of my life so far. It has allowed me to grow as a person. I have met life long friends that I couldn’t imagine doing life without. It has shown me how strong my husband is, and how strong our marriage is. It has pushed me to my limits. It has taught me how to change light bulbs 8 feet in the air, put up and take down a 10 foot Christmas tree, clean the gutters, sell a house, find a new one in a strange city, and do just about anything I put my mind to. I’ve become closer to my in-laws, family and friends. I have become better. I have the military to thank for that.     

And I’ve learned (thanks to the man at my side) that we don’t always get what we want the first, second, or even fifteenth time around, but with persistence, hard work and dedication, even the most outrageous dreams can become reality. I just have to continue to remind myself of that. 

Gifts

A dear friend once reminded me "God's greatest gifts often come in the ugliest packages."

Do you ever have moments where something enters your life just at the right moment? A quote, a story, a friend, a sermon, a verse. You’ve asked for answers to your worries and fears, and these gifts come to you seemingly out of nowhere just when you need them.

I thank God for these gifts. 

The last few months have been a rollercoaster. We lost, we’ve loved, we’ve lived, we’ve renewed our faith and our hope in the future. Some days are difficult, but most are much easier. I still have a fear of the unknown. I still doubt and worry. My daily payer has been for peace, acceptance, understanding, and a blessing. Yet, my thoughts at times are overwhelmingly pessimistic. I pray for my exceedingly annoying optimism back, but the negativity consumes me at times.  Something came over me recently that told me to quit asking, praying, (begging) for peace and optimism. He was giving all He could give. It was what was being taken from me that was the issue.

I was getting ready one morning when my perspective took an immediate turn. I suddenly realized God wasn’t to blame, it was His adversary. Tainting my thoughts with negativity. I quickly adjusted my requests for optimism and asked to be released of my feelings of fear and doubt, and finally peace overcame me. A short time later, I realized I had neglected my daily devotionals. These are what I had missed: Ephesians 6:11, Psalm 32:7 and 2 Corinthians 10:3-5.

Gifts waiting for the perfect moment.

Among these gifts have been others.

A few close friends, who I don’t talk to often, contacted me out of the blue to check-in on me… out of nowhere… just when I needed it.

In the middle of a hormonal (aka my fault) argument with my husband, I decided to read this story (which I had seen, but ignored for days).

My devotional today as I worry about tomorrow: Proverbs 27:1.

And a reminder of why I started this blog in the first place:

Family

What exactly is family?

I’ve been thinking about this for a few days now. We all have a preconceived notion based on our own background, beliefs, and values…. But when it comes down to it, it’s really simple.  In my pediatric lecture course we cover an entire chapter over “Family Centered Care”, and in my PowerPoint I describe family as “whatever a person considers it to be.” I remind my students that for some it is the typical mom/dad/child, but for others it includes grandparents, step-parents, adopted children, friends. It is whoever is most important to you, blood or not. Yet, I struggle with this understanding of family myself.

I began thinking about the meaning of family after I read a very moving story (read here). This story, if you chose not to read it, is about a 15 year-old orphan praying for adoption. I’ve always said I wanted to adopt, but this story gave me an entirely new perspective. For me, adoption has been a “last resort” and something I’d want to do AFTER I had 2 children of my own. Since our miscarriage, I’ve been thinking a lot more about adoption. We have no idea what the future holds for us, and that has opened my mind and my heart.

Why last resort? Why AFTER?

Adoption to me is no longer the trendy, altruistic thing to do. I believe it is what I was meant to do.

We will still continue to try for our own little miracle, but I will also begin the journey to learn more about adoption.

I’ve spent the last week with my family. My BIG, LOUD, AMAZING family. They make me crazy, but I couldn’t be more blessed. We love each other. We support each other.  My family doesn’t consist of only blood. I have people in my life who don’t share a single gene with me that I consider family, and I couldn’t imagine my life without them. I want to share that love with a child who needs us. Because even more, we need them. To open our mind and our heart to all that love is.

The Talk

We had "The Talk". 

What is it about being a woman and overdramatizing things? I'm normally pretty level-headed, but I've had this ridiculous portrayal in my mind of how everything would play out... I'd finally start a real discussion with my husband about the miscarriage... All the horrible emotions would come flooding back, it would be sad, depressing even, and get us nowhere except back where we started over 3 weeks ago.

WRONG.

It was easy.  It came up again over an amazing sunset dinner in Kauai (See, it never escapes you). I finally allowed myself to get into it. Instead of glazing over the topic with our usual rhetoric, I finally asked what I'd been wondering these last few weeks. "How are you feeling now?" "What do you think the future holds for us?"  "Are you worried?"... Afraid he'd say yes. His answer was simple. "There's nothing we can do about the past, we just have to keep moving forward. We'll get through this." It was vague. Vagueness usually sets me over the edge... I want to know what you're really thinking! But this time it was perfect. His sincerity and confidence said so much more than his actual words. I finally felt at ease. And a little ridiculous. 

We discussed our feelings in the beginning. We both knew how we felt immediately after the miscarriage. It was that time since that everything felt chaotic and distant. Like we were ignoring, almost hoping to forget what we'd been through. 

I didn't want to forget. It was part of our story. It was part of us. 

We hadn't forgotten. We'd just continued living. Holding each other up and providing each other strength without saying a word. Without needing to "talk". 

I forget, especially as a military spouse who has spent 2 years away from my husband, just how strong our unspoken bond is. We know what the other is thinking and feeling without having to speak. We have each others back and we know when we need to speak up. 

This time we didn't.

I guess I felt we needed to have "the talk" because all you hear is how important it is for couples to communicate. "Communication is key". What I didn't realize is how well we communicate without saying a word.

We both felt the hurt and sadness from our loss, yet we both knew we would  be okay. No matter what, we would have each other. No matter how difficult this time has been for the both of us, we both have faith in His plan.

And can I just say, I love the way my husband folds his shirts... 

Where are we?

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind..... of emotions, schedules, good news, bad news... It doesn't end. They say bad things come in 3's, I'm not sure how many more "triplets" I can take. But things are finally looking up.

They don't warn you that after a miscarriage your hormones are almost as out of whack as they are after you give birth. Over the course of a week, I went from shock to sadness to frustration to denial to depression to JUST PLAIN PISSED.... Sometimes all those emotions at once. Three weeks later and I still find myself questioning the reality of what happened. Did that really happen to us? Will it happen again? Will we ever have a baby of our own? WHY!?...are the questions that pop in my head on the hour.

I find myself sitting on the beach of Hanalei Bay in Kauai (YEP!) and I still cant find contentment. Don't get me wrong...  I realize how absolutely blessed we are to have the opportunity to spend a week here and I'm enjoying every minute I get to spend with my love, but my thoughts haunt me. Here, I have nothing but time to think. To the left of us sits a young couple much like ourselves, and to the right is another couple with a baby (maybe 6 months old and the mom looks DAMN good!). Both seem very happy, but I can't help but envy the life of the couple to our right and scoff at those to our left. I used to treasure the lack of responsibility we once had, and now I long for it (responsibility that is). We're ready, why wasn't He?

 Part of me is thankful for the "whirlwind" this last few weeks... It has given me time to focus on other things and forget about our tragedy. Then again, I don't want to forget. I want to move on, but I can't.  We moved two houses across three states, "sold" our house in Texas and then lost the buyer last minute thanks to a doof for a loan officer (so now we're paying a mortgage and rent), I left my job, and the government has its head up its ass! Great news for a now single income military family. As bad as it all seems, we can see the rainbow through the rain clouds. We know it will all "work out in the end" and one day we'll "laugh at all the craziness"... I just want it to be that day... That's both the optimism and impatience in me...

So here we are in Hawaii living the life, dreaming of a different one. Trying to get perspective and gain understanding. I'm thankful for this break from reality and opportunity to BE with my husband and understand just where we are emotionally. When the miscarriage occurred, we were 600 miles apart and finishing up important jobs. I was finishing my last semester of teaching and he was completing another chapter of pilot training.  We both knew how upset we were when the miscarriage happened, but we didn't discuss our emotions at the time. We still haven't. I had to be strong for him so he could finish his last week of training and GET HOME! He had to be strong for me because that's what husbands do. Since then, we've been so busy we just haven't had the time (or strength) to really get into it. We met with our new ObGyn when we got to Tucson. My husband came with me, but as soon as we sat down in the waiting room, I wished he hadn't come. I knew I couldn't be strong for him anymore. The thought of even mentioning what had happened (knowing I'd have to recount our experience at least 2 more times to the doc and nurse) was unimaginable . I knew I'd lose it.... I was losing it just thinking about it. I was afraid he'd lose it too... He almost did a few days before. I forget what I said but his voice cracked in response and that's when I knew just how important it was to talk. He had been just as shattered by this experience as I was.

 We met our new ObGyn. She was fantastic! She calmed our fears and gave us renewed hope. I felt at peace with our situation for the first time. It was kind of like eating a giant banana split... We both felt great about it at the time, but within an hour we were doubting our judgement. Of course she was going to be positive and optimistic on our behalf, but we all knew there was no guarantee that everything would be okay. We remain hopeful, but there's still that question in the back of our mind.

I've heard from so many people since my first posts... friends, family, strangers.... Most of them (many of them) who had been through a similar situation. Some had one miscarriage and went on to have healthy babies immediately, others had multiple before getting their miracle. The responses validated the truth. The truth of just how common this is, yet no one talks about it. Of the family and friends who responded, I had no idea what they had been through and it broke my heart. I wished I could have been there for them like they've done for me. I just hope my voice speaks for others.

The optimism in me is fading. I hate it, it's not me. But I have to be realistic. I have to prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. Having one miscarriage doesn't mean that we'll have another, but it does raise our chances (only slightly, but it does). I try to think about the stories I hear about one miscarriage leading to healthy pregnancies, but I can't help but consider the opposite.

Things are getting better... One thing at a time. I will continue to be patient, optimistic, realistic, and hopeful. I will cherish this time with my husband, and take the opportunity to understand his feelings. To understand just how this has affected us both. I will continue looking up.

Breaking the Mold

Miscarriage. You know about it, but you rarely hear about it. It’s such a taboo subject, yet you don’t realize just how taboo until you go through one yourself. It seems wrong to give such a negative connotation to such a common occurrence. About one in four pregnancies are lost within the first few months. Some experts believe that this number may be as high as one in two pregnancies. Many women miscarry before they ever know they are pregnant. (http://attainfertility.com/article/fertility-after-miscarriage). That’s 25-50%, not a small number. While I understand the many reasons why it has become taboo, I feel compelled to let others know that you shouldn’t feel ashamed, scared or uncomfortable talking about it no matter which side you’re on.  This is the reason I’m writing. Not sympathy, but understanding and awareness.

Having a miscarriage is a horrible, horrible experience that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I lost my first child (here's our story). I was only 7 weeks along, so it seems like the blow should be less. It wasn’t. It was hard, yet I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone. Who could I turn to? My husband and family were there for me, but so far away. I wanted to talk about it, but I didn’t. How would I begin talking about it? No one even knew I was pregnant.

No one talks about their struggles getting pregnant or miscarrying. For some it’s because it’s a very personal matter and they don’t want anyone to know. But for many, it’s all you think about. It consumes you. Deep inside you beg someone to bring it up, to talk to you about it. As someone who has experienced some of this, I know this feeling. You so desperately want it to not be taboo. You want to be able to talk about it freely and not feel embarrassed or ashamed. It’s therapeutic to discuss it, to realize just how common it is and that you’re not alone or that different from most other women. We shouldn’t have to discover through google just how common pregnancy struggles and miscarriages are. We should feel comfortable talking about it. We should feel comfortable consoling others who have been through it.

I encountered many faces as I went through my miscarriage. Nurses, doctors, techs, strangers, friends, and family. Some knew how to respond, others didn’t. Why? Because it’s taboo. No one talks about it, so no one knows how to talk about it. 

 When I was in the ER I came across both sides of this. The doctor caring for me was not afraid to say the word miscarriage. He was a he. He had never had a miscarriage and had no clue what I was going through, but he allowed me to feel comfortable in my feelings. To grieve. He acknowledged how I felt and was there for me. That meant the world to me, especially since I was alone. The nurse and the ultrasound tech were just the opposite. They were obviously uncomfortable around me. They didn’t know what to say or how to interact. Instead they made very shallow comments or just ignored me all together. This was the hardest part of all. I didn’t want (or expect) sympathy or someone to cry with me. I just wanted to not feel like an alien. As a nurse, I feel it is so important to treat patients as a person, not a disease (or in my case, a miscarriage). Just sitting with your patient/friend/family, listening to them, validating their feelings can go such a long way. And you don’t even have to say a word.

This is where it all started. Why do we not tell people when we have struggles? Especially people we love. Why do we hide miscarriages? Why do we keep things bottled up inside, put on a happy face and go on like nothing ever happened? Because that is the norm. It’s taboo. People don’t talk about it, so people don’t know how to talk about it. How does this help anyone? It doesn’t.

After my miscarriage, I wanted to know more, I wanted to learn more. That’s just me. I started researching. I came across thousands of message boards with women asking questions, talking with strangers, reaching out to anybody for support. Why? Because who else were they going to talk to? Surely there was no one else in their lives who had had a similar experience or who would understand?

Not true.

I knew of a few friends and family members who had gone through a miscarriage before I went through mine. After I started talking about it, I learned just how true the statistics were. EVERYONE I talked to had either had a miscarriage (or multiple) themselves, or knew someone close to them who had. They never talked about it. Instead, they kept it bottled up inside until someone, anyone, shared the commonality. You hear all the time about the easy conceptions, pregnancies and births. That’s easy to talk about. Why can’t we feel safe talking about the struggles? Why do we have to feel alone? Like we’re the only ones in the universe going through this.

We don’t.

For those women who have (or one day may) go through infertility issues or a miscarriage, don’t be afraid. Don’t be ashamed. You’re not alone. For those of you who know someone who has gone through something like this, don’t ignore them. If you care about them, acknowledge their grief. You don’t have to have the “right” words, just being there is all they need. BREAK THE MOLD. Let other women know that it doesn’t have to be taboo.

Lessons in Patience

Make a baby? That’s easy! If 16 year olds can do it, I sure can!

We decided to start trying to have a baby this year. We’d done everything “right”. We had been married 2 years, together 5. We were happy, healthy, and financially stable. I had finished 2 master’s degrees and become settled in my dream career. My husband was quickly approaching the peak of his dream to fly F16s (a dream he’s had his whole life, and has worked so hard for). It was time, we were ready, the stars aligned.

I went off birth control a year early. I was sure that once we started trying, we would get pregnant immediately. I mean, why wouldn’t we? I knew it would be a logistical pain. My husband was finishing pilot training in Mississippi, and I was living/working in Texas. We saw each other as much as possible, but from what I had heard it helps to be with your partner when you’re trying to conceive ;). So, we decided we’d officially start trying the next May. Until then, we’d practice ;).

In April, my husband came home for my birthday. He was only here for a few days. We ate, drank, had fun. He went back to MS, I left for a conference in LA. A few weeks after my birthday, I realized I was late. Could it be? Already? After only one time? Could we be that lucky? I did the math, it wasn’t impossible although I had a feeling it was. I decided to call my doctor on a Friday afternoon (these things ALWAYS happen on a Friday afternoon). She assured me that it was definitely possible and asked that I come in and do some blood work to see if I was indeed pregnant (it would detect it much earlier than a home pregnancy test). I went in at 3:30pm and left…. wondering. I called the office as I pulled out of the hospital garage to see when they thought the results would be in (I have ALWAYS been very impatient). They told me it could take a few hours and the office closed at 5pm. I was confident I would hear something before they closed (I have also ALWAYS been very optimistic). Nope. Nothing. I waited all weekend (an eternity for the impatient). Monday morning I got the call, I was not pregnant. I was not sad or really surprised to hear the news…. I had a feeling I wasn’t…. a feeling I would later learn to be my closest friend, who would guide me through my ups and downs. My husband on the other hand, was upset. His “feeling” told him we were. His reaction was the hardest part of all for me. It proved how ready he was. How hopeful he was. The past pessimist was finally becoming an optimist like me. I hated to give him the news, but was confident when telling him it would all be ok and things would eventually happen when the time is right. We’d have to follow God’s plan.

onths went by and I still wasn’t pregnant (nor had I had another cycle). I was growing concerned, my patience was running thin. Everyone kept telling me that I was fine, it was just taking my body some time to regulate after being on birth control for 10 YEARS! I didn’t want to believe that… I was sure there was something wrong. As soon as I returned to Texas in July (after being in Mississippi for 2 months) I went straight to my ObGyn. She ran a gamut of tests. Everything came back normal. I had not started ovulating yet, but she was sure that my body would get in the normal flow of things, and I eventually would. “Mrs. Impatient” still didn’t believe it. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I bought books, apps, everything I could get my hands on to learn about fertility and my body.

15 days later, I started ovulating.   

I was ecstatic. It was going to happen! I realized this was just a (first) lesson in patience. I can’t control everything.

That month my husband and I were apart, so I waited for the next month. By that point, I’d come to realize just how ridiculous and impatient I was being. It had only been 6 months since we said we were going to officially start trying. What was I freaking out about? It can take the average normal, healthy couple up to one year to conceive. Why was I stressing after 6 months? So, I decided to stop (stressing), leave it up to God and good timing, and just have fun in the process.

That month we conceived!

I was with my husband for 2 weeks, then I had to come back to Texas to finish my last mini-mester before we moved to Arizona. It was by far the most stressful month I’ve had in a long time. We sold our house and had to deal with all the inspections/repairs that came along with that. We found out we would be PCS’ing 2 months earlier to a totally different city than we originally planned, and I would have to fly out and find a place for us to live. Add to that working, packing, and seeing those 2 pink lines we had been waiting for.

It was a week before my “missed period”. That “feeling” came back...I was pregnant... I could feel it. It was too early to test, I told myself to wait at least another week. The last thing I wanted was to see another “big fat negative”. So I left it alone. A few days passed, and the symptoms started! My breasts felt like they had been used as punching bags, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t focus, I was tired, I was craving red meat?!? (if you know me, you know that’s odd).  So I decided to go for it. I had a pack of 3 pregnancy tests, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to waste 1. The box said to wait 3 minutes… the result came up in 30 seconds. OBVIOUSLY PREGNANT! I couldn’t believe it! I didn’t believe it! Who would sell fake pregnancy tests? That’s just mean. I sent my husband a text, but I knew he was asleep and wouldn’t wake until the morning. So, I called my best friend. We did the happy dance together, then I went to sleep. HA. NOT. I couldn’t wait for the next morning to come so I could tell my husband. I woke up extra early (again, very odd for me) to take a digital pregnancy test. I wanted the cool “pregnant” sign to show. It popped up in 30 seconds too. This was for real. He called me as soon as he woke up (not knowing what for). I told him I wanted to FaceTime. I had something I wanted him to look at because I wasn’t sure what it meant… ha. Stupid FaceTime wouldn’t work! Then I realized I was in a bad area so I moved my “set up” to the bedroom. We were FaceTiming! But it was black! “Why can’t I see your face?” He still had the light turned off…. typical. He knew immediately why I wanted to see his face at 6am…. “Are you pregnant?” “Just shut up and turn the light on”. We really love each other. As soon as we could see each other I turned the camera to my 2 POSITIVE pregnancy tests! We were both so excited to share in that moment. Lola (our Great Dane) joined in as well. It felt so great to finally share good news.

I called my doc, she had me go in to do blood work to confirm. Sure enough! I was preggers! Not even 4 weeks along. There’s nothing they can do/see that early so she told me to wait until we moved to AZ and see a doctor there at 10 weeks. I immediately set up (a few) appointments to scope out the competition. Then it was a waiting game. Another lesson in patience. I was getting pretty good at this whole patience thing. So I did everything “right” (again). I took my prenatals, continued to exercise (lightly), ate really well, didn’t let everything going on around me stress me out, and just enjoyed my pregnancy. I never would have thought that I would grow to LOVE having sore breasts, no sleep and peeing every 5 minutes, but it was just confirmation and reassurance every day that I really was pregnant.

Life was good. The future was bright.

As a planner, I was already planning the future with this little person whom I hadn’t yet seen or met, but couldn’t wait to. When/how we’d tell our family and friends the big news. How we’d announce the gender. Names. Nursery colors. Midwife or OB? Birth plan. What he/she would look like. What kind of stlye and personality will Lil G have? It was all so exciting. I wanted to tell everyone. Strangers and friends.  I wanted to announce it to the world! And so did my husband.

But we decided to wait. Like most people do.

12 weeks? 14? 16? 20? There’s no magic number. How do you decide? Some people announce as soon as they find out, others wait longer. It’s a personal preference and no decision is better than another. As a medical professional, I know (too much) about all that can go wrong. Just how fragile pregnancy is. So, we decided to wait 16 weeks to tell everyone, 10 to tell our family. That couldn’t come soon enough.

It wouldn’t come soon enough.

At my 7 week mark. Friday the 13^th, I woke up to a beautiful day. I had been so happy to wake up everyday since I found out I was pregnant. I am usually NOT a morning person. I went to work, everything was great. I did start to notice that some of those\ symptoms that I had been monitoring so closely as reassurance everything was ok, were starting to wane. I chalked it up to be me just “getting used” to them. I’d also started to get that “feeling” again… this time that things weren’t going to be ok. My friend reassured me that those feelings were normal during your first trimester and that everything would be fine. I went about my day, came home, had something to eat and then developed an awful headache. I decided to turn in early. 7pm on a Friday night. No shame. Sleep always helps my headaches, plus the baby could use some rest… I hadn’t been getting much with all the peeing I was doing throughout the night.

I woke up at 2:30am. My headache wasn’t any better. Of course, I had to pee. I went to the bathroom and there it happened. I lost my baby. Was I dreaming? Was this a horrible nightmare I’d wake up from later? Nope. I called my husband, told him very matter-of-factly, and told him to go to sleep and call me in the morning. I didn’t go to sleep. I laid in bed with Lola resting on my tummy, waiting for the sun to rise so I could start my day, have a normal routine and pretend nothing had ever happened. 
Wishing that nothing ever happened. 
The sun came up, I got dressed, and I took Lola for a walk. I tried to act normal, but I couldn’t. I was in another place. A lonely place. We walked by several people, but I felt miles apart from them. Lola knew. Lola felt it. A dog as sweet as they come growled at every person that walked by us. Something she never does. She was protecting her mom. I didn’t really notice it at the time, but now it gives me chills.

My husband called me when he woke up. He asked if I had called my doctor. I hadn’t even thought to. Why should I? It’s Saturday morning. What can they do now? Then the nurse-me kicked in and I realized that was probably a good idea. I called the office, was sent to the answering service and had to utter those words I’d been dreading (to a stranger) “I think I’ve had a miscarriage”.  She told me she would get in touch with the on-call doc and have him call me. He called me back pretty quickly and for the first time I couldn’t even speak through the tears. He gave me time to explain to him what had happened and then suggested that I go to the ER. I was not looking forward to this.

I arrived at the ER and had to utter those excruciating words several more times. They told me they wanted to look into it and be sure that it truly was a miscarriage. Bleeding during pregnancy isn’t always abnormal. I knew mine was. They did a pelvic exam. PAINFUL. They did a ton of blood work. Sent me to ultrasound. PAINFUL. 45 minutes of a probe inside of me looking for what? I don’t know. I knew there wasn’t anything left in there. The ultrasound tech, with a flat facial expression, never said a word. PAINFUL. They took me back to my “room” where I waited for the results. The doc came in and confirmed that I had miscarried. “It appeared as if I had never even been pregnant”. I knew what he meant, but that was not what I wanted to hear. Otherwise, everything else looked healthy. I would not need a D&C. There was nothing I could have done. There was nothing that I did wrong. The baby most likely had a chromosomal anomaly (the cause for 85% of first trimester miscarriages). We could try again in a few months. ALL PAINFUL.

I let my husband know. He shared the news with his parents, I shared with mine. No one knew we were pregnant. The hardest part (aside from not being able to go through this with my husband by my side) was telling my mom. I tried to do it via text, but she called me instead. I couldn’t contain myself. I cried like a baby and told her the news that I had been pregnant, but wasn’t anymore. The first thing she asked was “Are you alone?”. I was. I hadn’t really even considered it. I live 300 miles from my family. My husband has been 600 miles from me for over a year. I do things on my own. I’m ok with that. It never dawned on me until that moment that I was all alone. There was nothing anyone could do. Alone or not.

I just wanted to crawl into a hole and come out when it was all over. When the pain was gone. But I couldn’t, I had to be strong. 

I went home and sat in the quiet for a while. I didn’t know what to do or think, or how to “be”.  Part of me felt like it was silly to be so upset. I was only 7 weeks. I hadn’t even seen the baby. But I was upset, and that was ok. I decided to go to dinner with some friends. I had to get out of the house and be with people that I love, and that didn’t know what I had just been through. I needed to take my mind off of what I had lost. It helped. I felt better when I got home, hopeful that everything would be ok. It took me a while to fall asleep, but I finally did…. almost 24 hours after it all started.   

I only slept for a few hours. I woke up and my first thought was “Was it a dream? Did it really happen?”. It had. I lost my baby. It had finally sunk in. I let myself cry for a few hours, then I peeled myself out of bed and attempted to follow some semblance of a routine. Through it all, all I wanted to do was crawl back in that little hole. I couldn’t bare the thought that this was my story now. I mourned the loss of my baby throughout the day, and went to bed determined to have a better day after. This day was the hardest.

It remains difficult, but it gets easier. The next day was a lot easier. I woke up and didn’t feel like crying immediately. I was sad, but hopeful. I knew everything was going to be ok. I had prayed that we would have a healthy baby, and ours wasn’t. God was just taking care of us. Even though I was only 7 weeks along, I still consider that baby my first, and will never forget the hopes and dreams I’d already had for it. I know there is a happy healthy baby in our future, and I will continue to be PATIENT until the day God puts him/her in our arms.