Duckiesan Designs

I know this is supposed to be my cooking blog, but I don’t really have an outlet for such a long post and I’m paying for the space so this is where it will live.

First a little background.  My husband and I have been married for 6 years and have been trying to have a baby for most of that time.  We’ve looked at all of the options thoroughly and decided fertility treatments would be the best option for us.  We started a first round a few years back and found that even with medication that it was difficult to get me to ovulate so we took a break from the fertility treatments and looked at more options and eventually I had weight loss surgery to help get my weight down.  Here we are almost 2 years out from that surgery.  We resumed fertility treatments back in August (the kind where they give you some medicine, monitor things, and you focus on getting the timing perfect, not IVF) and we were so ecstatic to get pregnant on the first round, it seemed too good to be true after all of these years of struggle. I had my first ultrasound at 7 weeks and everything looked great, she had a heartbeat and was growing within the expected time frame.  When we did our 9 week ultrasound (routine for fertility patients) my whole world crumbled.  There was no heartbeat anymore, my baby was gone.  I thought I knew what grief and heartache felt like, but I was wrong. I have never ever in my whole life cried like I did that day.  It was awful, but one of my biggest saving graces has been the fact that a lot of really brave women in my circle have talked about their miscarriages and that being even a passive participant in fertility communities I have heard the many many stories of women who have been through this.  That’s why I’m writing this now, because I want to share my story for the next woman who will lose her baby.  I’m also writing to help with the process of healing from my second miscarriage just last week.  

After the first miscarriage we went back into treatments and started trying again as soon as my doctor cleared us.  I wanted some hope as I walked through the milestones that I would be missing with my Alexandra.  So we dove back in and I found out I was pregnant again right after Christmas, mostly because I had covid and they needed to know in case I required further medical treatment.  Obviously I was a nervous wreck, the first miscarriage had robbed some of the joy from the process. I had to wait to get my blood pregnancy test confirmation for the two weeks that I was quarantined, which only heightened my anxiety.  Those tests went well, and then I quite anxiously waited for my first ultrasound. I prayed so so hard, to the point where I would curl up into a ball and cry begging God to let my baby live. But that first ultrasound…. The baby was too small, it wasn’t looking good according to my fertility specialist.  I went ahead and saw my midwife, and she gave me some hope, but the next week that was squashed pretty violently.  There was no fetal growth, and even I could tell that the gestational and yolk sac looked deformed.  So here I am mourning a baby that wanted to be but never was, trying to make sense of it all.  I’m trying to understand what I’ve learned and what I’m learning and hopefully help someone else along the way.  So here we go. 

1. Waiting 12 weeks to tell anyone means you are alone during the scariest part of your pregnancy.  I told my best friend some family and the people I worked with the first time I was pregnant.  I had a coworker who was also pregnant at the time, and I loved being able to talk babies and get glimpses into what was about to happen to my body. And when I lost Alexandra, I had support from my coworkers.  However, its hard to be a manager when people tiptoe around you so I decided to keep it quieter in the future.  The next time, I shared with a lot fewer people and when things went to hell in a handbasket I felt a lot more alone.  And in the end I still ended up having to tell people because I had to let some important things at work go just to keep body and soul together while I waited for results and then waited for my D&C.  
2. Losing a baby can be almost as expensive as actually having one. So what a lot of people don’t know about miscarriage and fertility treatments is that you might not start bleeding and just lose the pregnancy naturally.  When you undergo fertility treatments you know you are pregnant sooner, are having ultrasounds sooner, and thus are aware of what’s going on long before your body gets the memo.  So when you have a miscarriage like that, you have to make a choice, wait for possibly weeks more to see if your body starts the process on its own, continuing to feel pregnant and miserable all the while.  You can take a pill that will kick start the process for you, but from what I’ve read that can be pretty awful and you might end up with option C anyway.  Option C is a D&C where they surgically go in and clear out your uterus.  There are a lot of advantages to option C, while you still have a bit of cramping and bleeding, it’s overall quicker and most of the time and you can ask them to do a genetic screening so you can maybe find out what went wrong.  Alexandra had a genetic disorder called Turner’s Syndrome, that causes heart defects among other things.  Just a fluke of genetics and unlikely to recur. It made me feel better about trying again.  Baby #2, who I can only call my little tribble (for he/she has caused me many “trials and tribbilations”),  is still pending his/her genetic tests.  The thing is though that the D&C is expensive.  I haven’t gotten all the bills for the 2nd yet, but for the first they billed my insurance over $14,000 (average cost of hospital birth and a lot more than my planned birthing center delivery).  Thank god I only had to pay a couple thousand dollars of that.  This time, my part was quite a bit more because its earlier in the year and I have not even begun to work on my deductible.  Still I don’t think I could’ve placed a price on the relief of having the whole process over with so I could start the work of healing my broken heart. 
3. This is your husband’s or partner’s loss too.  They may process it differently because it’s not happening in their body and they don’t have the insane hormones complicating things, but they have lost a child too.  Mourn as you need to but bring your partner into the process with you so that you can mourn and heal together. 
4. You will know a lot about the strength of your marriage/relationship and the character of the person you are with really quickly.  My husband has been the best partner anyone could have asked for during this whole process and has proved it doubly as we have lost both pregnancies.  He has been open with his feelings (actually I’m quite sure that he is tired of me asking how he is feeling, but he kindly shares with me even if it’s that he has had to stop thinking about it for a little while).  He has let me cry and be mad at God and the world while still reminding me that there is good and hope.  I can’t say enough about how much he has been here for me and I feel so blessed that God has given me this man to do life with.  When the “or worse” part of our vows kicked in he stepped up in such a huge way, and it makes me treasure him more than I can say.  I just hope I have been as attentive to his needs as he has been to mine. 
5. However you are feeling is okay and probably really normal.  I have been angry at God and leaned on God.  I have been so sad that I don’t know how I will ever feel truly joyful again, and I have had moments of laughter and happiness.  I felt so guilty about how miserable I felt while pregnant and for being glad it was over after I knew the baby was already gone. I was dreading the continuation of pregnancy symptoms as my hormones renormalized, and I have mourned their loss after they were gone.  I’ve thought maybe it would be better if I had never been able conceive at all, and so many more deeply hurt and anguished thoughts.  There is nothing wrong with any of them, but having God, friends, your partner, and a good therapist (trust me you need all of them), to sort through them so that you can hold on to what’s true and what is just the grief and anger talking is invaluable.  
6. Just like every pregnancy and baby, every miscarriage is different. With Alexandra I got to hear a heartbeat and imagine the life we would lead as a family. I never got a moment to feel like that with Tribble. For Alexandra I knew precisely what to do to start the grieving and healing process, I’m still searching for that now with Tribble. There wasn’t a baby in this second pregnancy just an idea that I might finally get to be a mom, so I’m not mourning a person as much as I am mourning the loss of possibilities. So my way through each one is unique, but merging since I was still reeling from Alexandra as the little tribble came along.
7. Your partner cannot bear the burden of helping you through this by themselves. You will be going through A LOT and while you want to let your partner help you remember that they are going through A LOT too.  And part of what they are going through is their feelings of helplessness to help you.  So talk to your partner, but also find your support system and use it.  Don’t try to do this alone, it’s just way too much.  My best friend, my mom, my sister, my mother in law have been incredible touchstones for me, as have all the women I work with. From sharing their stories, to just letting me be until I’m ready to come to them, because I just can’t deal with people fussing over me. I know this must be especially difficult for my mom who almost certainly wants to hug me and love me make sure I’m physically okay. But to be honest, when I shut down its hard to let anyone be in my space. I also highly encourage you to find a good therapist.  They are trained for helping you through this and through the emotional issues that will pop if you decide to try again or the emotional issues around if you decide trying again is more than you can bear.  If my husband has been the rockstar of this tragic tale, my therapist, family and friends have been the legendary back up singers. 
8. COVID has made this harder than you can imagine.  I was alone when I found out I lost Alexandra, I was alone when I found out that my little tribble was growing poorly, and I had to ask to have my husband with me the day the told me he/she wasn’t growing at all. And for my second D&C I wasn’t sure until the second I walked into the pre-op area whether or not they would let my husband be with me while we waited for surgery to start.  One of my key love languages is touch and to be without the hand or arm of my husband in those moments compounded the horror and loneliness ten fold. 
9. When people ask how you are doing, be honest.  It means that you don’t have to bear the burden of pretending to be okay.   Of course there’s a scale of this where with casual acquaintances it can be, “as well as can be expected” to when your sister asks telling her you are quite fucked up right now. You don’t owe anyone your story, but you also don’t owe anyone a faux pleasant face when you are doing good just to get out of bed. 

I’m quite sure there is more, but right now I am in the throes of fresh grief.  It’s been really good for me to write this, and I hope if you have gone through this it has been good to hear it. And though I pray you never have to go through a miscarriage, the reality is that most women do at some point, so if you do happen to go through it in the future I hope that reading this will in some way ease your way as the stories of other women have continued to ease my way.  Pray for me, pray for us.  We are taking a break for a month or two, but we will be trying again in the spring.  Pray for healthy babies, pray for God’s will, and if a healthy baby isn’t God’s will pray for our strength and sanity.