Part I – Bitter
I’ve decided to write about this because I think that women should talk about it more than we do. It’s a horrible, extremely emotional, and very hard thing to have happen to you. So why would anyone want to discuss it? We don’t want to, I get it. But as someone who has been through this twice now I would rather have some meaningful or rather helpful conversations about it than get anymore pity looks. I’ve recently been going through a miscarriage. I was six weeks a long. I found out that I was pregnant on Monday, September 14 and miscarried a week later. The day after we had decided to finish telling the rest of our immediate family members and close friends the worst had begun to happen. I woke up Sunday morning around 1:30am with the worst cramps. As soon as I woke up I knew what was happening. In fact I had a really bad feeling the Friday before. My body was definitely telling me something was wrong. Finally after a few hours of SCREAMING, CRYING, Punching the Love Sac in our living room and soaking Ty’s t-shirt with my tears and boogers I called my mom and she convinced me I needed to go to the emergency room. I didn’t want to. I DID NOT WANT TO GO!! I figured I already knew what was happening so I might as well just stay home and deal with it in the privacy of my own bedroom. None the less, she was pretty persuasive and we were off to St. Marks. The ride to the hospital was THE WORST. THE WORST! Did I mention that it was the WORST EVER! The reason it was the worst is because this time around we were ready. Maybe we weren’t ready financially but mentally and emotionally we were ready to finally bring a child in to the world. Tyrone was excited; we were both excited. And for the few days of bliss that we experienced and the hope that we held on to for about four days or so having that come crashing down is crushing to ones spirit. We were both crushed. As we were waiting in the waiting room my parents came over and I felt myself begin to cringe at the sight of my mom’s face. Not her face but the look on her face. I did not want to see “those” looks again. Although I know my mom doesn’t pity me and I know she means the absolute best I just did not want to be going through this again. Because now that this is number two (my first happened two and a half years ago when I was 11 weeks a long) I knew the looks were going to get worse and be filled with even more pity. Because people are not positive during these times (ok some people are but MOST are NOT). I was thinking about this as well while I was laying in the hospital bed for roughly FOUR HOURS and after a few pity looks from the nurse who was helping me. I was not looking forward to the next week or so of hearing everyone and their dog’s opinions about what is WRONG with me. Since because I’ve had two miscarriages they assume that something just has to be wrong. Even though most doctors and medical online sites will tell you that over 40% of pregnancies end in miscarriages. And a large percentage of women will have MULTIPLE miscarriages before they eventually have a successful pregnancy. Some of this I know is my own paranoia about the whole thing about what I assume people are saying about me behind my back. Some of its paranoia and some of it is FACT because I am a woman and I know how we work and how much shit we talk. Most of the time we can’t help it – we think we are bringing awareness to the issue when in reality we are just judging and flat out gossiping.
{Let me step down from my soap box to finish telling you my story.}
Regardless of other people’s assumptions of the worst, I’m not about to assume something is wrong with me just because this has happened but at the same time I am not going to over look the possibility that there could be. I’ll let my doctor help Ty and I out with determining that.
The nurse’s looks kinda pissed me off at first but just before we were ready to go home she opened up about her own experiences and gave me some advice. It was really nice to hear that in the empathetic way she talked to me. She had two miscarriages as well before she was able to give birth to a perfectly healthy baby who is now 12 years old. To finalize what I am trying to say, I think we should be supportive and positive for each other and let go and LET GOD. I don’t think that this happened because I did something to make it happen and most doctors will tell you that it’s out of your hands. Before I left the hospital I finally felt better A LOT BETTER. Seriously. I wasn’t burying my feelings or trying to cover up anything. I just felt better. I was still sad no doubt, but I finally had the realization that it’s not in my hands and that if it is going to happen it will happen in God’s time not my own or because I finally stop shooting up meth. Okay, I don’t do meth (just on weekends). Ha! I do drink a lot of caffeine though ;)
Part II – Sweet
All while this was going on my nephew was starting to bust down the door. He was ready to enter the world.
Sunday evening my family came over and brought TONS of ice cream, because you know it cures ALL combined with funny movies. They also got us a pumpkin which almost made up for it all. Having them over really helped Ty and I get through it instead of lying in bed all evening drowning in self pity and deep depression. Deep depression was definitely heading our way. If it wasn’t already with all the job related BS that has been happening to us – it was definitely HERE NOW. Funny thing, when we were talking about what we were going to do during the day Monday Rachel joked around about us having to make our way to AF because she would probably be having Hagen anytime after 1pm. We all laughed it off but thought how cool it would be if it did actually happen and well, it did. Her intuition was dead on. After her one o’clock appointment with her doctor my mom and I got a call from my brother that they were going to induce her and that Hagen would be here sometime that evening. We were jumping with joy in my dining room.
You’re probably wandering how I could possibly be excited about this considering what I was going through. I’ve been asked this a handful of times already. How could I be excited about this? When on Monday morning I still had not passed the embryo (my baby) and the sac at this point. I still had a few long days before me that the doctor had warned about. But I was ready for it. I just thought “BRING IT ON!! I’ve got my Ibuprofen, Tylenol and diaper size maxi pads; let’s get this OVER with already. I want to meet my nephew DAMMIT!!” I was not about to be robbed of this experience because something awful was happening to me. I also didn’t want my family tip-toeing around me either. I didn’t want them to feel they needed to do that. And I think that I was just over-all so sick of being down and out. Once he finally arrived we had another jumping session in the waiting room and when he was ready to go to the nursery we followed behind with his proud dad close to his side. As we came around the corner of the nursery the only thing I had on my mind was seeing Hagen. My mind was clouded with happiness with no thought of what I was going through. I was in a moment of bliss until I was standing face to face with the nursery window and seven other newborns all laying side-by-side. SEVEN MOTHER FUCKING BABIES!! SEVEN!!!! I literally lost it. I had to walk over to a chair because I could hardly breathe. Those SEVEN babies took my breath away and not in a good way. It sucked so bad seeing them all laying there. Before I could catch my breath I could feel Tyrone next to my side with his arms around me both of us feeling the same crappy way. I wanted to kick and scream again but my better side quickly kicked in and I was back to admiring the new dad and his handsome boy in the nursery. It was just a moment of sucky-ness. I honestly couldn’t tell you where I was pulling this strength from. Sometimes I can barely tell if I even have a good side. It does make an appearance on rare occasions.
I’ve heard people say “with death comes new life” and we were experiencing it in the most literal way.
Everyday I would get a text from my friend Jenni asking me if I was okay. Just her simple way of checking in on me helped tremendously. She doesn’t know that; maybe I should tell her or just let her find out on here. Ha! That evening while we were waiting for Hagen’s arrival in the waiting room at the hospital I got a text from her asking how I was and I told her where I was. Her response was “That has got to be Bitter Sweet.” That pretty much summed it up, honest and real. I’ve been thinking about that ever since I decided to write about this. I didn’t want to sweep this under the rug because that’s “what you do”. Sorry I’m not kind of gal. I’d rather people hear it from my mouth than from some chicken’s big mouth.
For now the days are good. It’s been nice to hold Hagen and just stare at his handsome face. There have been some rough days too. And I know that I am entitled to a few more melt downs. In the next few months we may try again or we may not. One thing I know we will keep praying and trying to stay positive. Ty is Mr. Positive. He helps me with this so much. He doesn’t even know because his actions speak louder than words. He has had an extremely rough year. I hate it when people say this but unfortunately it’s been true, it has been a roller coaster ride. I am so lucky to have a wonderful partner for the journey.
*Correction - after speaking with my doctor he says that 80-90% of pregnancies end in miscarriages.
