I Remember…

I bet you can remember where you were and what you were doing on 9/11.

I bet you can remember a feeling you had, when you were excited or nervous, the butterflies in the tummy, the light-headedness, the fast beating heart.

Now, picture a young woman sitting on her couch, in a puddle of tears, because she has just lost a baby. I know that feeling all too well. Over the next few weeks, I will dig down and share all about my pregnancy losses. Yes, losses, plural, I had 8 total. I won’t tell all the stories, but I will share the ones that hit me right in the chest, when I was not expecting it.

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we! You know, we start seeking fertility treatment after a year of trying. Well, our doctor put me on Clomid and I was SO Excited! This was the “miracle drug”, the one that helped so many of my friends get pregnant. In December of 2011, I did it, I took the pill and two weeks later had a positive pregnancy test. I was elated! I remember calling my husband with the great news! Finally, we were going to have a baby! We were going to have a mini us! I couldn’t wait another minute, so I called my mom and mother-in-law to tell them the good news! They were so happy too! A few days later I received a gift from my mom, it was a soft elephant lovey and burp cloth, I remember the butterflies appearing, staring into the guest room imagining my baby’s nursery. We were talking names and due dates and vacations, everything. But then… heartache.

A few weeks later (4 total), I was at work on a Friday and I started to spot. I immediately called the doctor and the nurse told me to head home and rest, feet up and no activity. On the way home, I prayed, I prayed to God to keep my baby safe, to make the bleeding stop. I called my husband and he met me at home. Throughout the night, the bleeding got worse, heavy like a period.

We were in constant communication with the nurse and she had us come in on Saturday morning for blood work. I remember getting dressed in yoga pants, I remember the car ride was silent, not even music, I think we were praying for a miracle. I had heard of others girls having a miscarriage and I prayed not to be one. I remember the elevator ride up, holding hands; I remember getting off the elevator to a room full of people (if you do fertility treatment, you know that is surprising to see a full waiting room on the weekend).

I felt the whole room knew what was happening, I felt gross and most of all I felt like a failure. I had failed this baby, I had failed my husband, I failed my family. Bloodwork was drawn and about 2 hours later we got the devastating news. Within a few hours both my mom and mother-in-law, were in the car heading to be with us. I remember the moment their car pulled up and I remember the tears in both their eyes. I remember sitting on the couch a few days later and sobbing. I remember questioning everything.

But you know what else I remember, I survived. My heart broke and I wasn’t sure how I would every move on, but day by day I did and day by day I got stronger. I now can go a few weeks without thinking of baby number one, and sometimes I think of baby number one a few times a week.

The irony of the story is I lost my first baby on Martin Luther King Weekend, well my miracle was born a day after MLK day, 5 years later!

PS- The flower is a Forgetmenot!