Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

Today, October 15th, 2013 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness day. Oddly, it's also around 5 years to the day that I suffered a miscarriage. So, in honor of this day, while it has nothing to do with autism, or my little royals, I thought I'd open up and share a brief but profound moment in my history. I will try to keep the graphic details to myself mostly, but anyone who knows anything about miscarriage knows that these stories are not for the squeamish. So, if you would like, now is the time to go back.

The King and I had only been married for a few months, but together for years when I first started thinking about having a family. After some discussion on the topic, we had decided to start trying to get pregnant. After only a couple of months, we were blessed to have gotten a positive pregnancy test! I was so excited, my family was on it's way. I immediately started to day dream about what life as a new mother would be like. In my excitement, I shared with anybody and everybody who would listen to my news. I was to be a mommy very soon!

Then the morning sickness set in, but it didn't seem so bad. I was counting the weeks, one by one, and I'll admit looking back, my morning sickness did ease up. I paid it no attention, since I was nearly twelve weeks, and almost out of the first trimester. Morning sickness was supposed to ease by now. The morning of my miscarriage started normally enough. The King had to get up and go to work, and I was going to enjoy a nice quiet day at home.

When I started to experience the cramping, I really didn't think much of it, because I'd had some in the beginning part of my pregnancy, and I figured it was growing pains. So I laid down on the couch to watch T.V. and take it easy. They progressively started to get worse. By the point I was doubling over in pain with each cramp, I knew something was wrong. I went to the bathroom, only to confirm my fears. I was bleeding.
I didn't know much about miscarriage up until that point. I knew it was more likely in the first trimester, but once you hit the second chances where less likely. I knew you bled. I did not think it would happen to me. When I passed the first clot, I thought that it was the baby. I didn't know otherwise. I called my mother sobbing, unsure of what to do now. I called my doctor, while she called my best friend. They told me to rest and take it easy, and to come in if I felt the need to.

After about 20 to 30 minutes of handling this alone, my best friend showed up ready to bring me to the hospital. In this process, both my mother and my best friend had also been attempting to reach my husband, who while at work it's hard to reach him. When they finally got a hold of him, he left immediately to rush to the ER, only to beat us there. The way it worked out, I ended up sitting next to my best friend's eight month old son. It's just the way it worked out, I do not begrudge her this, never have. I digress. I remember sitting in the back seat, as he looked at me, thinking about the fact that my chances of motherhood where over. It was hard, but I got through it. When we arrived at the ER entrance, the King was right there waiting with a wheelchair, and had apparently already registered me.

It didn't take long to get back to a room, and finally they had given me something for pain. I laid in that bed, hopeless. I felt like the ultimate failure. My body couldn't do the one thing it was made to do. As ultrasound machines were rolled in, it only confirmed suspicions that the baby wasn't there, they could find no heartbeat. When checking the progress of the miscarriage, it seemed that my body wasn't doing what it was supposed to. It was soon decided that I needed an emergency D&C. D&C, also known as dilation and curettage, is a surgical procedure often performed after a first trimester miscarriage.-- This information was pulled from americanpregnancy.org and you can find the article here.-- I was taken to OR prep, where I was put under.

When I woke up in recovery, I was confused for a bit. As I grasped my  bearings about me, the events of the day came back. I renewed my tears again at the thought of the loss of the baby. MY baby. I no longer had a life inside of me, as I had when I woke up that morning. It was more than 12 hours later, and nothing was the same. I fell into a bit of a depression after that. I no longer wanted to try for a new baby. I didn't want to think about trying to replace what I just lost. Besides, my body failed me. After we left the ER, we decided to go get food. We went to our favorite 24 hour restaurant, and one of the regular waitresses saw us, walked right up to us smiling, and proclaimed "I heard you were having a baby! Congratulations!" I don't know who's face fell hardest, hers or mine when I had to tell her that the news was no longer.

After several months, I started to come around. I realized that my body didn't fail me, that there was likely something wrong with the baby. It was never discovered why I lost the baby, just that it didn't look like it made it past six weeks. I eventually came to the conclusion that I might be OK with trying again. Really, I decided not to prevent. Wouldn't you know it, it didn't take long to get a new positive pregnancy test. I was far more apprehensive this time though, not wanting to share the news with everyone, just in case I lost another. This one was meant to be, though.

Tonight, at 7pm my time zone I will be lighting a candle for my angel baby. I encourage you to do the same.