Part 3: Hope springs...

I had been wanting and waiting for our little family to grow for so long.

I went through (irrational) moments of feeling I was being punished for wanting too much.  For not being happy with what I had.

Then I would look at my dad going through his parents aging and only having one brother to share it with compared to my mom who had five siblings with whom to commiserate.  What was wrong with wanting my kids to have more than just each other?  I could see how loving Little Man and Miss were around babies and the youngers.  They would be great older siblings together.

So now we were on chance #4.

When DH got up that morning, he asked what the test said.  I immediately started crying.  He hugged me and said "It will be okay" which I got mad about.  How did he know?  He couldn't promise that.  Nothing had been okay so far with any of it!  He, being the more rational of the two, said we couldn't wallow in the pessimism.  Which is true.  But the anxiety and nerves and pessimism can be so consuming.

I called the nurse practitioner and her nurse called me back that afternoon.  She could tell I was scared and said they would pray for me.  She gave me the new plan of attack and told me to contact an OB immediately to setup my first appointments.  So I did.

I got lucky and ended up with a gung-ho OB.  She ordered a litany of blood tests and had contacted a high-risk specialists about any others she should order.  I did two rounds of blood draws and waited for the results.

We told our parents in the meantime.  We were happy but you could tell it came with some breath-holding.

The blood tests showed I had a genetic mutation that prevented folic acid from being produced along with some low levels of Vitamin D and other nutrients.  The OB immediately put my on high folate and supplements and scheduled an ultrasound.  She also was determined to keep a close eye on me since I was a "rarity" for the conditions I displayed.

I felt sick as I waited for the first ultrasound.  When the tech came out, I laughed.  It was the same tech that had confirmed my two miscarriages.  And she remembered.  She was as nervous as I was.  With great relief she found a heartbeat immediately and we sat and listened.  After she handed me the first pictures, I left with a little more breathing room.  I texted DH and we silently celebrated.

Then I got a call from my OB.  She wanted to keep close tabs on me so she scheduled another ultrasound for two weeks.  More waiting.

This time I had a different technician.  But again, she immediately found the heartbeat.  We were getting closer.

I had another appointment with my OB.  She was pleased with my nausea and growing belly - as hard as I tried to hide it.  She wanted to schedule a third ultrasound, though, because there was some bleeding in my uterus.  Again....we waited.

Finally the third one came around and I nervously asked if DH wanted to bring Little Miss and Little Man.  They could wait outside until we knew everything was okay.  I was approaching 12 weeks and feeling stronger.  So he did.  The technician (the same as my second ultrasound) immediately found the heartbeat so we could listen to the music.  Then she said the bleeding looked like it had gone down immensely.  A weight was lifted.  I finally felt like we could celebrate for real.  We called in Little Miss and Little Man and when they figured out the pictures on the screen where of a baby growing in my belly, they were ecstatic!  We shared in the joy of our growing family.

We left the ultrasound office with fresh pictures and a sense that we could finally share the news.  (And I could finally wear pants that fit!)

So we did.  Slowly.

There are still moments of apprehension but those are slowly giving way to moments of embrace.  The hope is that this continues...

Part 2: Reality

Bittersweet.  That's the only fitting description of a lot of moments post-pregnancy-loss. A friend announces they are pregnant and you are excited and devastated at once.  The friend you were going to be pregnant with has her baby but you don't have yours. People throw baby showers and send invites and you try to decline gracefully but (hopefully) not awkwardly.

Then there comes a moment when you wonder "Am I pregnant?"  It's a question that should be more exciting than anxiety-driven, but if you've suffered a miscarriage or still birth, the latter is more prevalent.

A few months after my first "official" miscarriage in November, I asked myself that question.  I put off buying "The Stick" out of anxiety and nervousness but finally bucked up and bought it.  I always buy a double pack because I never trust the first test.  I took a test that evening and again in the morning.  Both were positive.  I was happy but very nervous.

We chose not to tell anyone, especially Little Man and Little Miss.  This lasted about a week until we told our parents.  Then on May 2, I started bleeding.  Dear Husband tried to comfort me and reassure me but I knew I was losing another baby.  I called the nurse and the doctor and they said there wasn't anything I could do.  The nurse suggested lying down but wasn't sure it would actually help.  Monday was our appointment that confirmed we had lost another baby.  Same office, same midwife, same ultrasound tech.

Except now it was different.

Now I was a woman who had had multiple miscarriages.  Thirty percent of women suffer a miscarriage in their lives.  Only 1-2% suffer multiple.  My mid-wife suggested I go in for testing and start seeing an OB since I was now high-risk.

I took charge and contacted an incredible nurse practitioner.  She got me right in and took a full history and asked a lot of questions.  I felt comfortable and was determined to figure out what was going on.  In the back of my mind I feared every possible scenario - cancer being the most dominant. After about half hour and an ultrasound later, she determined I probably had PCOS - Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, which may or may not have caused the miscarriages.  In that appointment, we also determined that I had probably had a total of three miscarriages in the last 18 months.

I left her office with a plan of attack.  Wait for my next cycle (which would be in a week or two - God bless ultrasound technology) then do blood tests and some other really fun sounding tests and get a final diagnosis.  Then we would start some medication to regulate my ovulation cycle, because even though I thought I ovulated regularly, PCOS was throwing the whole thing off.

So we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Twenty days after my appointment, DH asked if I was pregnant.  I said I didn't know but I hadn't gotten a test either.  My gut told me I was though.

I left after dinner that night to pick up the weekly groceries and various items for Little Man's birthday party the next day.  I also picked up another pack of Sticks.

In the morning, I took the test and the blue line in the middle was immediate.  And I was devastated...

Part 1: The Realization.

As I've mentioned before, life has a way of throwing curveballs at us.  Anyone who has been on this planet for more than a day and has an elevated sense of self-consciousness knows this.  As a Catholic, I was raised to believe that these curveballs come at us for a reason.  They aren't out of spite or anger but rather a way of teaching us to stand tall, work though problems, keep swinging when we are down, etc.

Our family has had it's fair share of curveballs lately.  The two most difficult ones to maneuver through have been my two miscarriages.  Six months apart.  The first right before Thanksgiving and the second the weekend (ironically) of International Bereaved Mother's Day.

The first was hard.  Well both were hard but the first was hardest.  We had shared our joyful news with family and friends and, most tragically, our kids.  We had given them a sibling that they nicknamed Roo and were already fighting over who got to have Roo in their room.  Little did we know that at this time we had decided it was "safe" to share the news, we had already lost him.  I went in for my 10 week appointment.  When I was weighed, I noticed I hadn't gained much weight.  My gut started to turn slightly, but I tried to stay upbeat.  Then my midwife couldn't find a heartbeat.  My gut turned more into itself.  Then we went to ultrasound and the technician could instantly tell we had lost Roo.  She was the first to share her empathy.  She, too, had miscarried a couple times.  Now she was eight months pregnant.  As empathetic and sweet as she was, it was hard to take from someone who would have their baby soon.  She took some pictures then went to get my midwife.  They both talked at me about what could happen and what to watch for.  I say "at" because I barely took it in.  All I could think was "I have to tell Dear Husband and Little Man and Little Miss."

I blankly walked out and drove straight to the school.  I tried finding him in his classroom but it was empty.  I headed to the library but he had just left.  I couldn't believe this!  How could he not know I was looking for him.  I went back to his classroom.  The moment I stepped in and looked at him I burst into tears.  He asked what was wrong even though he probably knew.  He shut the door and I said we lost the baby.  We cried.  We sobbed.  In the middle of it all, some poor kid came in to grab his stuff he had left.  I felt bad for him.

I decided I needed to go back to work but would probably leave early.  I told my boss I wasn't feeling well.  Dear Husband picked up the kids.  He also called my boss and told him what had happened.  My boss then had the unpleasant job of telling the rest of the office.

When my family got home, I broke down again and we were left no choice but to tell Little Man and Little Miss what had happened.  We sat them down and told them that God needed Roo in heaven as an angel more than we needed him on earth.  Both cried.  Then they asked if they could watch cartoons.  Kids have a way of moving on much quicker than us adults.

They settled back into their routines and we tried to.  Once in awhile they would mention Roo and talk about how it wasn't fair, especially when they saw a little baby.

I couldn't have agreed more...