I am 1 in 4…

One in four women experience pregnancy loss. That is an astronomical amount of people. That’s not counting the other people who are also affected by it. Husbands, partners, children. Pretty much anyone who loves that woman, also goes through that loss. Truth is, you know someone who has been affected by pregnancy loss, even if you aren’t aware of it.

I get it. It is such a personal, sensitive subject. A lot of women don’t like to share, and I completely understand. Everyone copes differently. There is no right way to mourn the loss of a child. Because that’s exactly what it is. You’ve lost a child. In a blink, you’ve lost a version of your future that you’re not going to get back in this lifetime.

Back in early 2013, Skylar and I started seriously discussing having children. We were stationed at RAF Lakenheath in the United Kingdom at the time. We both felt great about the timing, and we were so excited about the prospect of expanding our little family. We were sure that it would happen quickly. We were young, active, and healthy. The months started passing though, and nothing was happening. It was around the 7 or 8 month mark that we decided to see a doctor. I tried convincing myself that it was probably a simple thing. A timing problem, or something small that could be fixed quickly. My heart though, had a deep sense of dread. Deep down I knew something else was going on.

The first time I saw a physician on base, I was terrified. I was very naive to the world of infertility. I didn’t know what to expect. Oh how I wish I knew then, what I know now.

Military physicians are very limited in what they can offer you, as far as treatment. I told her how long we had been trying, along with some other symptoms I had been having. Irregular periods being one of them. She offered me clomid. She told me how many to take, and for how long. Never once did I receive an ultrasound, nor did she order any bloodwork. If she had, she would have known that my hormone levels were OUT OF WHACK, because I have PCOS. I didn’t know that at the time. It would be another three years before I received a diagnosis. The care I received was complete laziness and incompetence. Like I said though, I was naive. I’ve forgiven her. I had to.

I picked up the meds at the pharmacy and went home. For the next week or so, I took a pill everyday. Clomid causes the pituitary gland to release hormones needed to stimulate ovulation, which technically, is what I needed. But I wasn’t being monitored, and the rest of my body (i.e. my hormones) were not where they needed to be. The side effects were something nightmares are made of. I had hot flashes. Like, normal temp one second, then sitting in the seventh circle the next. I cried. Like A LOT. My moods swung faster than that swing ride at the fair that makes everyone vomit. It was not pretty. It wasn’t my best look, to say the least.

I finished the meds and about a week later, Skylar left for a temporary deployment. He was only going to be gone for three weeks, so it wasn’t a worry. It was about two weeks into him being gone, and I started having symptoms. Tiredness, bloating, felt like garbage. Also, cramping. As I started to connect the dots, I googled to see if cramping was normal in early pregnancy, and good ‘ole Dr. Google put my mind at ease. Yes it is normal. If it is mild…mine were on the verge of really painful, plus there was a little spotting. Nothing crazy. I put it at the back of my mind.

So, I decided to take a pregnancy test. I had wanted to wait until Skylar came home from his deployment, but the symptoms pushed me to do the test. I did and almost instantly, there were two distinct pink lines. Dark as the devil. None of the holding it under the light and squinting business that I was used to.

It’s the strangest thing, looking at a positive pregnancy test after so many negatives. It didn’t feel real. I video called Skylar and showed him, and then my Mom. After talking with my Mom, she urged me to go into the doctor to get a blood pregnancy test. I was still having some semi-painful cramping, and I decided she was right and drove myself to urgent care. I checked in, and they did the blood test. While I waited in my little room, I couldn’t help but fantasize about what my life was about to be. I distinctly remember doing the math to figure out when the due date would be. I thought about names. I even opened my phone and was looking at baby stuff we would need to buy. It’s amazing, and scary, how quickly life can change.

The physician that I had initially seen, the one that had prescribed the clomid, walked in the room. She had a look. It made my heart squeeze in fear. She told me that I was indeed pregnant. But, for how far along I was (about 8-9 weeks), my numbers were low. She suggested I go home and come back the next day to test again. If the numbers had more than doubled, I wouldn’t need to worry. Trust me, I know. Hindsight is 20/20. I should have asked her to do an ultrasound right then and there. In fact, she should have done one without me asking. I am still so flabbergasted at the lack of care I received. So I went home with a heavy dose of anxiety.

That night, the cramping got intense. That’s an understatement. I was curled up, sweating bullets, and on the verge of vomiting. It was unreal pain. Then the bleeding started…and it was more than a little. It finally waned enough, that I was able to sleep some.

I went to urgent care as soon as I woke up. I was still in a lot of pain and could barely sit still in a chair. They took the test, and that same physician came in the room and it was all over her face. My numbers had dropped, she said. I was having a miscarriage. You know in movies, when someone is given bad news, the person giving the news sounds like they’re down a long tunnel and the words are warped and slow? The person receiving the news is in shock, and can barely hear what they are being told. That was me. I felt like I left my body. It was immediate despair.

She ordered an ultrasound (finally), and it was confirmed. There was evidence of a pregnancy, but it did not look how it was supposed to at 8-9 weeks. They told me I was lucky, because I probably wouldn’t have to have a DNC (dilation and cutterage. It’s as awful as it sounds. They scrape out the contents of the uterus. No point in sugar coating it). Lucky. Not exactly what I would have called it. I was given some pain meds, and sent home with instructions to come back if the bleeding became worrying.

I went home to an empty house. I could barely muster the will to call Skylar. I did though, and he cried with me. The next several days were hell. I screamed into my pilllow at the top of my lungs in anger and pain, I cried my eyes dry, I went from the bed to the bathroom. I’m ashamed to admit that I refused to pray. I was angry, and I felt completely forgotten.

It wasn’t until Skylar came home about a week later, that I started to heal a little. I realized that things had felt and seemed so impossible, mainly because I was alone. Once I had Skylar, I started to come out of the dark hole I had dug myself into. He took care of me, and let me feel my feelings. It was several weeks before my body was somewhat back to normal. My healing was far from over though. In another post, I’ll talk about the trip we took after my miscarriage that truly helped heal my heart.

It’s been almost 7 years since my miscarriage. Even now though, as I’m typing this, it’s like it happened yesterday. Every aspect of that experience is as clear in my mind as it was then. I have a different outlook on it now. I’ve learned so much since then. I’ve learned that God truly doesn’t give us anything that we can’t handle. At the time, I thought that there was no way I was going to be able to ‘handle’ it. But I did. I got through it. I found ways to cope. I found peace. Don’t get me wrong, it didn’t happen overnight. It took me years to get where I am now. A couple years ago, there’s no way I would have been able to write out this experience. I feel like I have been blessed with a sense of peace and clarity when it comes to my infertility. I think what did it, is when I decided that my life is beautiful and worth enjoying the way it sits now. I stopped worrying about the future, about getting older, about needing kids to fulfill my life. I still want children. Badly. But I have also gained faith in God’s timing, and letting him take over.

If you have experienced something like I have, first of all, I’m so sorry and I love you. Second, don’t let it overcome you. Keep living your life and find joy in the little things. It’s a time to be a little selfish. Do things for yourself that will bring you happiness, even if it’s small.

I hope this can be a place where you can feel like you’re not alone. You aren’t. If you need someone to vent to, to say things to that you don’t want to say out loud, PLEASE email me. I would love to listen, and give you love and support. Stay strong! You are a warrior!

Cheers!

Audra JaNae