My Two Week Pregnancy

This is not something I would even think about writing about, but to honor my unborn child I don’t want to miss any detail.

We had been trying to have another baby for over 3 years…. By the end of 2013, I was tired of trying. I was ready to move on with my life. I was ready to be done HOPING for something that might not happen. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe that it still wasn’t possible, but I didn’t want to go out of my way anymore, taking precious space in my mind and heart with the idea.

I spent the first 3 months of 2014 getting in the best shape of my life. If I knew I was going to get pregnant, I wouldn’t have put forth this kind of effort for a flat stomach and beginnings of 6-pack abs. But God will do what He will WHEN He wants to do it.

On July 2, 2013, I was looking at my calendar before I went to sleep and realized I was a few days late on my period… and while this is not alarming, as I’m not very regular, it did strike me enough to take a pregnancy test. Low and behold, that second pink stripe appeared in no time. I was floored. I was with mixed emotions. I had given up trying to have another baby. I was done. This was not in my plan anymore. It was the first time I wasn’t full on elated with the idea of having a baby. I had to wait until the next morning, after a very long night, to tell my husband when I felt like I was in a loving mother mood. I knew it would disappoint him if he saw the look on my face the night before. So, there we were, July 3rd and pregnant. I didn’t bother driving to work. I drove straight to the doctor’s office. They didn’t open until 8:30. I waited in their parking lot until they opened. I got in and told the receptionist, whom I’ve greeted for about 10 years, that I really needed to see the doctor NOW. She politely told me she couldn’t arrange such a thing but that she could get me in at 2. So I scheduled to come back at 2 with a midwife. In the meantime I bought more pregnancy tests. 2 more tests said yes. The midwife said yes. There we were, with child. Confirmed.

We had the entire family over on July 4th. I knew I wasn’t showing yet, and it was still so very early, we didn’t even know how far along I was and I knew it was way too soon to share the news. However, I told ALL of my girlfriends. I told my two closest girlfriends of course, I told the girl that I had lunch plans with on July 3rd. I told an old boss, whom I interviewed with for a future job. I told another random colleague at coffee. I told 3 girls I worked with. I was telling my small world and I know my small world was telling their small world.

The Saturday following the 4th of July, and after my morning jog (which I was told would be completely fine to keep doing) I started spotting. It wasn’t a tremendous amount but it was a fair amount and it had some super small clots. I freaked out, of course, and called my midwife. She called me back immediately and said it sounded okay but just to monitor it. She didn’t want me to exercise anymore and put me on pelvic rest too (no sex). It would take some time to tell what was going on for certain. Sunday was okay, no spotting. Monday it started back up again so she told me to come in and have some blood drawn. My HCG and progesterone numbers were going up but she put me on a progesterone supplement anyway, because of the spotting. My next appointment wasn’t scheduled until August 1st, my assumed 8 week mark. I felt uncomfortable waiting this long. They moved my appointment back a week, to July 25th. Through the course of the week the bleeding got a little better, but the following week it got worse and I had been cramping all of the time now. I decided that I wanted to see my old doctor now, instead of the midwife… only because if I had a placenta problem again (I had placenta previa with my first child and placenta abruption with my second), the midwife wouldn’t be able to do surgery but my doctor could. My doctor decided to see me a week sooner than the 25th, to see if we could tell what the problem was so on Friday the 18th, we saw the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. We were so excited. There was my little bean. I’ll never forget the look of relief, pride, and excitement all at the same time on Ben’s face right when he saw the heartbeat. It measured at 6 weeks 2 days. It would be due on March 11th, a day before Jack’s 5th birthday. We started talking about names a week prior and I fell IN LOVE with the name Aiden for a boy. Ben liked it too but he would not commit (he does not commit to vacation destinations or baby names until the absolute last possible moment). In my mind, the baby was a boy and I thought of him as Aiden.

That following Saturday, the 19th, things took a turn for the absolute worst. My cramps were not good. I stayed in bed all day with my feet propped up, playing board games with the kids. Right before naptime, around 1PM, I had a horrible cramp in my upper right thigh. It was excruciating. I could hardly think because I was in so much pain. Ben made me call the doctor. He was afraid I had a blood clot. I was afraid I had an ectopic pregnancy. I was in tears from the pain. I called the doctor and the on-call doc said that an ectopic would have been found during the sonogram. She said it could just be my ligaments all the while I’m wondering how I was going to make it through 8 more months with pains like this. By dinnertime I was in tears again. I told Ben I was just so uncomfortable and in a lot of pain in my abdomen. They were the worst menstrual cramps I had ever had, aside from childbirth… and those pains from childbirth did echo in my brain and I was aware that it was a possibility I would miscarry, even though I was convinced the baby was okay since we just saw the heartbeat. I called the on-call doctor again. She said since we just saw the heartbeat the baby was probably fine but to go ahead and check on the baby. So we dropped the children off with their grandparents and went to the ER. There was no ultrasound technician available so they had to call one in while we waiting in the waiting room. I started to feel SO MUCH better. I felt like I didn’t even need to be there after awhile. We waited about an hour for the tech and I had to go to the restroom. When I stood up I knew what I would find. Sure enough, there were two massive clots that came out in the toilet. My underwear was soaked with blood. As I quickly cleaned up and was shaken, I had to go back out to get my purse and a new pad. Ben knew there was a problem. I went back in to finish up and I could hear Ben say the technician was ready for me. I was so shaken up.

The ultrasound was not fun. It was uncomfortable. It took at least 15 minutes. 15 minutes of a technician with a stick in my vagina all the while not sharing any information with me about what she’s seeing or not seeing on the screen, that is positioned in such a way that the patient cannot see. I was reading Ben’s facial expressions to see if I could figure out my future, all the while I’m crying out to God, “SHOW YOUR POWER!!! DON’T LET THIS HAPPEN!!! SHOW YOUR POWER!!!!!!” I was crying so hard in my head while trying to stay calm. When she was done I went into the restroom to change. When I emerged Ben said he couldn’t see anything on the screen. Where there was a baby the day before he didn’t see anything at all. He wasn’t sure if she was seeing something he couldn’t.

My next stop was a temporary ER room while they prepared a different one for me. As we waited, Ben and I just stood and hugged and cried. It seems like time stood still. I wasn’t sure what the difference was between the two ER rooms until we left our shared, curtain partition room to a private room with computer screens and bedding. My mind was racing and reeling. I wanted an answer on my baby. I wanted someone, ANYONE, to tell me my baby was okay. I wanted SOMEONE to tell me ANYTHING… even if it wasn’t okay. I didn’t want to be left in the dark.

We got to my ER room and the nurses asked me to take off my clothes and put on the gown. I asked why. She said they needed to do a pelvic exam. I asked her if it was just a pelvic exam, why did I have to take my top off. She just stared at me with her new nurse, sweet nice eyes that her ER shaken up patient couldn’t handle. I just followed her directions. I was so confused. I was so scared. I was so worried. I JUST WANTED AN ANSWER. I got in the bed and they took 6 vials of blood. I just gave 6 vials of blood the previous day. They said they needed to check my hormone levels. I didn’t understand why they would be doing all of these things if everything weren’t okay. So, I obliged. They then left my needle in and hooked up an IV. I was so confused. Ben calmed me. He reminded me that I, too, was a patient there. They needed to make sure I was okay. We cried so much in those two ER rooms. I began to relax even though I still didn’t have an answer.

The doctor came in and did a pelvic exam. I wasn’t sure why they did that either. He said everything looked good. I felt like I was being conditioned… we were left in the dark and at this point I didn’t really know what to think but was a little numb to it all. Well, we were now waiting on the radiologist to review the sonogram. I became friendly with the nurse. Yes, she was new. She said she loved being a nurse but she hated the computer program. I noticed she had a beautiful engagement ring. She was getting married in October. She was sweet.

Finally the doctor came in and sat down to deliver the news. I remember being calm about it. I don’t think I shed a tear. I think I was out of tears at the time. He said based on the information from the radiologist it appeared that I lost the baby right before the sonogram. Those two massive clots in the toilet contained what little body that was forming of my beautiful baby Aiden. He didn’t give a definitive answer. He said that he wanted me to return to my doctor to confirm but he was pretty certain it was over. He apologized that he had to deliver that kind of news.

I don’t remember crying even when he left the room but I remember Ben leaning over the hospital bed and kissing me, again. I remember him putting his forehead to my forehead. I think I was still in disbelief. We did just see the heartbeat.

Eventually the nurse came in and I got my discharge papers and we got out of there as soon as we could so I could get a bite to eat. I hadn’t had dinner and I was starving.

During the ordeal I was texting one of my closest friends and giving her updates. I was so happy she was on the other end of the phone. Someone outside of our little unit was praying for me and for Aiden. My “sister” was lifting me up when I couldn’t do it. She never really had any words of wisdom to impart but I loved she was there.

Our house was quiet. Lonely. Our children were sleeping elsewhere. Ben and I processed differently. He wanted a drink. I wanted to veg out. Sleep didn’t come easy. Aiden wasn’t with me anymore. He wasn’t inside of me. That excitement to tell my children and family some absolutely beautiful news was up in smoke. That yearning to rub my big, beautiful baby bump was still so fresh but would not be made a reality. That longing I had to feel his first kicks was still so strong, never to be fulfilled. That desire to bring him into my bed to nurse him at night would be just a dream. That eagerness I had to see my youngest boy as a big brother was drowned in a sea of tears. That vision of seeing my daughter being a little mommy to that baby was just that, a vision. None of it would happen. Instead, I had to deliver this sad, horrible, depressing news to all of these people that I shared my excitement with… all those people that I had shared my first baby picture with just barely over 24 hours prior. It all came tumbling down… the entire house of cards. All of it.

A week prior, when I was scared from all of the spotting, I told my girlfriend that Jesus would use this baby to show His power. This wasn’t what I had in mind. This was the exact opposite of what I had in mind. This was a nightmare but I would not wake up.

The next morning, after I took a long, hot bath, we went to get our children. I was so happy to see them. I just wanted to snuggle with them and never let go. I wanted to bring them back home to bed and fall asleep in snuggles. Having them around made me forget my sadness. It made me be happy. My children couldn’t help but make me laugh. I felt whole again. Everything felt more complete. More normal. More real. They made the nightmare go away. They were protecting me from those scary monsters in my brain. They were also keeping me too busy to dwell on the previous night’s episode. I put on my swimming suit and we built sand castles. Daddy bought water balloons and we had a water balloon fight. They played in the sprinkler while I kept with the castle. We did snuggle in bed. A lot. We bought school supplies. Things were interrupted here and there with some phone calls to and from loved ones exchanging the news and me being reassured of their love.

My little newlywed sister-in-law and I went out to our farm and drank a couple beers and I told her the same story I just wrote here. Earlier in the day she sent me a message that said:

You took part in a brave thing yesterday. God is happy to have an addition to His family.

At the farm we shared stories of love and wonderment. Concerns about family members. Finding areas where we were more aligned in our faith than we previously knew. It was a good way to close the weekend. I thought it was an end to the bad feelings.

Evening came and morning followed. It didn’t even occur to me to take the day off from work. I just wanted to go back to my normal. As the day wore on I felt more alone. I felt on an island. The ladies at work that knew the news were very sweet and kind but I still felt lonely. I guess part of the problem in all of this is I had no idea how all-consuming baby Aiden was when he was in my tummy. Wondering if he was okay. Wondering if the spotting would stop. Wondering if waiting only until 12 weeks would be long enough to tell people. Wondering when I would start showing. Wondering which child he should bunk with. Wondering what needed to be baby-proofed again. Wondering if my breast pump still worked. Wondering about what baby clothes I even had left. It’s a lot of wondering. Well, when you take the reason for the wondering out, your mind gravitates to habit and it saddens you. It becomes more of a reality. There is no more reason to wonder. No more reason to dream. No more reason to ask Jesus for help in the pregnancy. No more reason to ask for guidance about the family going forward… about whether we should move into a different house or buy a new car.

And then it got quiet. I shared my story each necessary individual and with each one it was a sweet conversation but when it was over that was it. Not nearly as many called or texted to follow up as I would have assumed. For some, I know they are afraid to bring it up. … Afraid of rubbing salt in a wound. Afraid of opening a can of worms that will send me reeling and them left holding the bag. So I didn’t hear from them at all. My day to day had changed. My thoughts needed to change and my world was quiet.

I couldn’t even make it through the children’s swimming lessons without crying. It’s amazing how many cute prego bellies there are in this world; more noticeable I’m sure if you’ve just lost your baby. My belly would never be that way again.

I really leaned on wisdom of others during these first days, especially my little sister in law’s statement. At first I was confused because there was no “addition” and then I realized that there IS an addition to God’s family… Aiden just skipped this horrible planet earth. This brought me such joy and I shared it with so many people. To know that when Aiden woke up, the first face he saw would be Jesus’, not mine. That’s amazing.

Eventually friends would call again and check in. My mother called me every day for a week to make sure I was getting better and better.

I struggled with my feelings of grief and sadness being valid… I was only pregnant for 2 weeks anyway. In those two weeks I never really relaxed. I created a journal that I wrote new scripture verses in that applied to me. It has 12 entries. My favorite one, when I wrote it down, was Hebrews 11:1 — faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. I so desired for this to be made a reality. I wanted to will my pregnancy into finishing strong. I ached for so many things. I did not believe that Jesus would let me down, but He did. Even when things were not yet too scary I prayed for His will to be done and for my own ability to accept His will, whatever it may be. Still, I wish His desire and mine were the same. I had a huge let down. I felt like a gift was given and then taken back. I have a bigger sympathy for my children when they don’t get their way and fail to understand a reason why or aren’t given a reason why. It’s heartbreaking. It’s frustrating. I’m not being trusted with the answer. I might not be smart enough to even understand the answer. God is doing it anyway. He’s doing what He does because Father knows best and I just have to accept it like an obedient child. Even obedient children get hurt feelings. He understands that but it doesn’t mean he’s going to cave in.

Before the hospital experience was complete, and even that day at home with the intense cramping before the ER drive, I thought of Lazarus. I envisioned Martha running out to tell Jesus that his friend, Lazarus, had died. Jesus raised him from the dead. I KNOW He was capable of performing a miracle in my belly. I ached for Him to abruptly make the spotting and cramping stop. I longed for Him to make the baby appear as the tech was trying to find it. I would have told the world. I would have stood on rooftops and shouted down, “Jesus performed a miracle in my belly!” “Jesus saved my baby!!” “Jesus DOES answer prayers!” “I’m so glad Jesus is my savior because He worked a miracle and my life is so amazing. Look at my baby!!” But he didn’t do that. My baby died. I never got to hold him. I never got to have the great sigh of relief you get after you deliver a baby… you made it — 9 months — The baby is okay. I never got to nurse him. I never got to swaddle him. I never got to fall asleep on the couch with him. I never got to push him in a stroller in public and watch by-standers stare in wonder at my beautiful baby. I never got to take him to church and sing in his ear. I never got to shush him at night when he would cry. I never got to lay him in that beautiful handmade cradle next to my bed and stare at him all night long. I never got to feel his baby fingers wrap around my index finger. I never heard him giggle. I never heard him cry. I never got to feel his soft, fat baby feet.

There’s also a whole host of things that I won’t need to worry about either like him falling down the stairs, pulling the Christmas tree over on himself, choking on Jack’s Legos, ruining anything belonging to Madalyn, or sticking his hands in the fish tank. The bigger things too like worrying if I’m screwing him up. Worrying that he has a thirst for booze like his Daddy. Worrying he enjoys the ladies a bit too much.

There’s also this reality that maybe my little family could not handle something even bigger that was placed before us. What if Aiden had spina bifida? What if he was severely disabled? What if he was born without a major organ? What if he had such severe disorders that it impacted the entire family unit? … A hospital bed in our home. Having to catheter a baby. Putting a baby under anesthesia, OFTEN, for routine checks and scans. Waiting for a donor for some major organ. Worrying about the quality of life. Or further still… preparing a funeral, for an infant or a child. Worrying about the long-term affects of my other children. Watching the affects of this wearing on my husband. Dealing with ignorant comments or suggestions from outside sources or family. We were spared from these things.

The Sunday before the miscarriage, I went to church alone. I am thankful for this. It was a moving and personal experience. A few pews in front of me sat a family of 5. The second to youngest child was an adorable little boy who had some kind of a disability. It was mild, but he did have something. I dwelled on that for some time. I thought about what if God decided for us to have a child with special needs, would we be prepared? Are we the right home for that? I’m a big believer that God will only give you what you can handle. I believed that if God sent us a child with a problem he must believe that WE are special enough to raise that child. Then my mind wondered even further and thought about if that child had truly severe problems or worse. My chin quivered and I fought back tears. What my conclusion was that morning was that I needed to be like Mary. Whatever your will is, Lord, I am ready. Let it be done unto me according to Your will. And then, as I looked up I saw Jesus hanging from the cross and I remembered his night in Gethsemane. He prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed. All night long he prayed. Think about his struggle. He knew what was going to happen. He knew what he was to endure. And even though he was the son of God he still did ask for the cup to pass from him but then he said “Thy will be done.” Which is how we are supposed to live. It is occurring to me right now that those moments in church, I was being told it wouldn’t be easy. Whatever was in front of me, it wasn’t going to be easy but I was being an obedient child. I did ask for better things but I said, “Thy will be done.” I remember being scared sitting there in church and then suddenly being made calm. He gave me a tiny glimpse into what the future would hold, which came and passed and didn’t give me any significance at the time… but I do take comfort in realizing that I was spoken to or at least comforted.

I know that it will take me some time to not feel betrayed by God. The pain will depart. Someday I will understand why. The big picture just might get revealed to me. This is a unique experience that I believe only women, in a similar frame of mind and with similar values and morals, who have also experienced it can truly understand. The process of motherhood, if it’s not too unbearable for a woman, is a truly beautiful experience. We GROW a baby in our bellies. We take them with us wherever we go. All day long that baby hears our voice. I am truly blessed to have had this experience twice. I enjoyed every minute of two of my pregnancies.

A week before the miscarriage, after the spotting had started, I was trying not to be consumed with worry. I was also in a weird place emotionally because I struggled with whether or not to get my “hopes up” with this baby. My conclusion was that I wouldn’t know the ending of this ordeal until the ending came, which could be within hours or in 8 more months. So rather than spend each day in worry, I was going to have to fall in love with the baby and the entire idea of the pregnancy or else 8 months would go by and I wouldn’t have enjoyed a moment of it. I texted my friend that week before and said, “I’m struggling with getting my hopes up but there’s no joy in that. So, if I get a broken heart, so be it. It will get mended.” To which she responded, “Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all is what you’re saying?” Yes, that was exactly what I was saying.

This battle was between believing everything would be fine with everything would be terrible. Worry steals joy. That’s the bottom line. So, while it did end terribly, horrifically, in the most unimaginable way, I was trying so hard to trust. To stay calm. To not worry. I would be lying if I said I quit worrying when I decided to fall in love with Aiden. I didn’t stop worrying entirely BUT I did rely on Jesus to get me through. I prayed for Him to remove my worry and replace it with joy. With wreck-less abandon I fell in love with Aiden and visualized the rest of my pregnancy, the newborn in the house, Aiden with his siblings. And you know what? I didn’t die from that. I haven’t died from a broken heart. Ben, who has approached this situation in a more reserved manner, is nearly at the same spot emotionally as me. Yet he didn’t enjoy but only one day of the pregnancy. He allowed worry to guard his heart. He didn’t experience the joy. He didn’t experience the blessing, however short lived that it was.

Sure, it hurts like hell and I’m still not “right.” I may never be “right.” I am sure, however, that He placed this entire experience in front of me for good reason. Everything is for the good of His kingdom. This experience has drawn friends closer. It has drawn family members closer. It has allowed me to share my story with others, and maybe be a testimony of my faith. And for Aiden, well, the first thing he saw when he awoke was the face of Jesus… for that I’m truly blessed. He’ll be the one child that we didn’t screw up. That society didn’t fail. That religion didn’t confuse. He made it and I’ll see Him there. I will always think about him until I see him.