This has really been an interesting year. And interesting is my choice of words based on the “curse“: may you live in interesting times.
I have ONE desire. Only one. My desire is for my next positive pregnancy test to result in a baby that is not only carried to full term, but actually born. A baby that we can love and protect, raise with love and cherish like only parents can.
So far I’ve had no less than THREE pregnancies this year. This year alone. I found out I was pregnant late December, miscarried in January. May we had another positive pregnancy test, but we were out of town and before we could get to a doctor to confirm with a blood test, the dreaded period started.
My last miscarriage just happened. I found out I conceived around my birthday (11th of July). The strangest of all is that this time I somehow knew I was pregnant. I knew before any home pregnancy test (hpt) confirmed with that so very welcome second line, I knew before we went for my blood test. Maybe it is experience – one would think by the third pregnancy I would know what is happening in my body.
The saddest for me is that I really didn’t expect this pregnancy to end in a miscarriage. I obeyed my doctor’s advice to the letter. I did more than I was supposed to. I stayed in bed, hips raised. I taught myself to sleep on my left side. I ate healthy, took the correct vitamins, went for blood tests every second day. I turned my back completely on my business and trusted everyone else to pick up the slack. I didn’t want to hear anything, know anything – my entire focus was on doing my utmost to make sure this pregnancy went well. That meant no stress at all, no worrying, and just rest.
I don’t know what this feels like for other women, but I can tell you that three losses has come close to breaking my spirit. After each lost pregnancy, I would question myself more. What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently? Am I simply not worthy enough to be a mother?
How do you deal with yet another loss? My way of dealing with it is writing about it. I put my thoughts into words, and I purge my soul of the sadness and the negative emotions. My hope is that my story will have a happy ending, and that my journey will help someone else deal with theirs.
I have to really work at not allowing the bitterness to take over. The begrudging congratulations as yet another pregnancy or birth is announced. Some women seem to fall pregnant when they sneeze, and don’t experience any complications at all. There are women who give birth who didn’t even know they were pregnant until the baby decided that it is time to come out. How can you now know that you are pregnant for an entire 9 months of carrying a child to term?
It doesn’t help that my doctor tells me it is a miracle that at my age I have no trouble getting pregnant. I am 39 – that is really not old in today’s terms. Women fall pregnant in their mid-forties, even later.
This is becoming an obsession, and I know that I must guard against that. There is simply no way I can deal with another lost pregnancy. This last one was bad enough – I am devastated. The pain and depression is so deep that I cannot describe it in words. I can just feel it. There is an empty void inside me, an abyss with me teetering on the edge, holding on for dear life.
What frustrates me most, is not knowing what is wrong. If I knew what was wrong, I could fix it. I have been subjected to test after test after test. My backs of my hands are blue, caused by the bruising of the amount of needles that has been stuck in the veins. It is almost impossible to find veins in my arms. All these tests come back with absolutely nothing wrong.
We are not going to give up. Here’s to the hope that the next positive pregnancy test results in a baby that we can keep.