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...