On Beginning Again

I’ts 1:15 AM on a Tuesday morning and I can’t sleep, which is the new normal for me. The amount of tears I choke back throughout the day come out at night, but not in physical tears but in nightmares and sleepless nights… parts of this might sound “dramatic” or people might wonder “you feel this way just because of this?” But let me tell you, there is no guidebook of how to deal with anything that happens in your life. There is also no guidebook of how to understand something until you have gone through it yourself, and that has been one of my biggest lessons thus far over the last 8 months.

*If you have experienced significant loss or fertility issues, I do not want to be a reason to elicit a negative response, so please know that this is not meant to hurt anyone. There will also be things in here that might be quite anatomically triggering too, so please know that before reading.* Sharing this has is part of my coping, and my therapists said I would know when I was ready, and man were they right. I started writing this weeks ago, but never really knew when I would be ready to share. This is to help explain where I have been and to help my patients, family and friends understand bits and pieces that I have yet to share. I am choosing to share now because next week would have been the due date of our first loss.

Let’s go back to July 2022-having the time of our lives in Ocean City, Maryland where Andy and I got married two years prior. On the exact beach and condo where we shared our magical day, we were having a wonderful time, but something was very wrong. I spent half of this 2022 trip with horrible abdominal pain, to the point of fetal position moments in bed. Two nights I even woke Andy up because I thought “hmm.. my appendix might be on its way to its end, but no fever/vomiting/etc. so that can’t be, could it be kidney stones, could it be an ovarian cyst rupture?” But then the pain would pass and I would carry on to another day in the sun. I kept it to Andy and I because I didn’t want to make a big deal or ruin anyones trip, and my sister and I were about to head out for a total of 17 days around the US-heading to Oregon to visit our friend for a girl trip, then off to Utah and Vegas with our dad. I kept thinking, nah-everything will be fine. Finally one day we came in from the beach and to my surprise, I started my period 2 weeks after my last. I immediately thought that was odd but thought maybe my body was mad I was eating strange things and drinking more wine than any other time during the year (lol). Another night of pain went by, but the morning came, the pain was gone, and I went on a run (because running is something to do when you had pain the night before, right? Lord I should know better). Right before the run, I told my sister or Andy to get pregnancy tests because I didn’t know what the heck was going on.

Positive. All three of them positive. I was stunned, shocked, excited but I knew something was wrong. Andy almost passed out from the news in our little condo, but we carried on the day with this little secret. That night we went to dinner (our condo crew) and celebrated with champagne (ginger ale for me). I couldn’t believe it! One of my many thoughts were “oh god how will I tell the girls for the winery trip?! I’ll be the DD!” But my anxiety picked up-I was leaving Andy for 2 weeks and I knew something intuitively was wrong. I realized the next day my sister and I had a long layover in Charlotte, so I thought okay-we will go to a doctor there. When we arrived, the doctor I had called needed to cancel. We called around to every single doctor and they all said “likely cramps, implantation bleeding.” NOT their fault, but I should have listened to my intuition from the start. Lesson #1 learned and noted-follow intuition. You’re probably wondering why I didn’t go to the ER-well let me tell you-no one likes the ER, and I think I was scared of what I intuitively knew.

So, we ended up wandering around Charlotte and then got on our flight to Oregon later that evening. The pain had gone down, but there was a gnawing burning pain deep in my abdomen that I just pretended wasn’t there. The small bleeding was just implantation bleeding I thought. “This is pregnancy, right?” I thought.

We arrived and my girl friends wondered why I wouldn’t have some wine upon arrival, but I didn’t want to lay on the news at 11 pm or whatever time it was. Jesus the anxiety. My sister was a champ hiding it for me too. The next morning, I decided to tell them all and share the news that I could be the DD! They all took it incredibly and the day was epic. We explored the most beautiful wineries of Willamette Valley, and you better believe I still took some great smells and teeny tiny sips! Wine is in my Italian blood after all. We got to a brewery in the evening and as we were sitting there, the pain intensified to the point I wanted to curl up but couldn’t. Once again, I didn’t want to ruin anything going on at that moment. I went to the bathroom and the worst was happening. Blood everywhere. I did not say a word because I knew we were leaving soon, but I was fighting back fright, tears and pain. We got back to the Airbnb and I frantically called my sister into the bathroom. My friend who is a nurse came too and I’ll never forget her saying “Do you think it could be ectopic?” And right away I was like “what, no, that is so rare, there’s no way.” Well now the pain picked up to the point I felt a heartbeat in my ovary and it was splinters every few minutes. Well…it was time for the dreaded ER.

So began an 18 hour stay. No food or water because that’s the ER for you-and I could not stop shaking. I don’t remember much of this time. I remember the ultrasound tech had looks of concern and asked me 100 times if a had a positive pregnancy test, the physician assistant said “it doesn’t seem like a miscarriage” about 101 times, and the high risk OB/gyn surgeon said she was “worried she was too tired to make the wrong judgement call to take me into surgery without confirming ectopic, so we needed to wait.” (not kidding). My sister stuck with my the entire night-bless her heart. I will never be able to repay her. We waited and waited to see what was next, and my sister finally got ahold of Andy to have him fly out early the next morning because we thought I would need surgery. ($1400 Delta flight…ugh). I told my sister to go home and get some sleep, and they gave me a sleeping med and monitored my blood count all night long. I barely slept, even with the med. There were no beds available in the hospital, so I was in the ER all night. I heard one code, but other than that a drunk person, a car accident and a VBI-but I remember hearing distinctly each person was okay. In what felt like 100 years later in and in a pure daze, Andy walked in. This part is a blur too, but the hospital advised I stay in Oregon for minimum 7 days, because I was high risk of pregnancy of unknown origin with internal bleeding also of unknown origin. The bleeding was “stable” because my CBC was not changing and my ultrasounds weren’t showing increased fluid. They discharged me with the agreement I would come back in the morning to the outpatient center.

Well, Andy and I got back to the Airbnb where we fell asleep for I think 13 hours…and my friends were absolutely incredible. I will forever feel guilty for any part of the trip I impacted, because what on earth timing was this? I hated to ruin anyones time of a trip we had been planning for so long, and the guilt still eats me alive. Also how would I tell my dad what was happening because we had also been planning this for so long? At one point, I debated carrying on with the trip because I was still in disbelief this was happening. My absolute favorite thing to do is travel, and why the FUCK would this happen on a trip-putting me in a fight or flight state for my next trips to come, because will I ever be safe again traveling? What if an emergency happens? What if Andy isn’t here with me? How dare my body do this to me while doing my favorite thing ever-traveling?

Andy and I spent the next morning trying to figure out what to do. Stay in Oregon for 7 days (this is how long it would take them to figure out if the hcg was staying the same, hopefully find the pregnancy and dose me with methotrexate) or take a big risk and fly home. We took the risk, and got a flight home with a connection in Chicago. Hindsight, this was a horribly dumb decision, but we did not know what to do. During our connection, Southwest experienced a technical error with their boarding, so we were about to miss our connection. I had a medical stamp on my ticket and I was sobbing and pleading that I had to get home because I had a 7 AM appointment at the Cleveland Clinic the next morning. So many people were so kind, asking if they could help, and next thing you knew the Southwest workers got us on a standby flight later that night — all because of the medical stamp. This was the first time I saw Andy cry, and it broke me. I will never forget him pleading for help and insisting we had to get on a plane. That image will never leave my mind.

We get home, and the next morning we go to the Cleveland Clinic with close to zero sleep. Stephanie Tubbs Jones now has a track record in my mind of the bad luck clinic for me, and when I hopefully have my next pregnancy, I will NOT be making the appointment there. The doctor read my records from Oregon that I had on their online charting system (super fast), did an ultrasound, took my hcg, and confirmed the worst. Ectopic pregnancy.

This was Tuesday. Wednesday, I was to receive my first dose of methotrexate. This would hopefully slow the pregnancy to save my fallopian tube and hopefully slow the internal bleeding. I was stable, but the pain was significant and it felt like a bowling ball of fluid in my lower abdomen. I got the first dose on Wednesday, went home and waited for 48–72 hours to watch for the hcg to go down. I was SO optimistic. I was reading statistics that it works in 88% of cases, my hcg was so low that it would work, I have ZERO and I mean ZERO risk factors of ectopic so the methotrexate would work, right? Friday came, and the worst happened. The hcg did not go down. Two doctors came to the conclusion they would try another dose early in the week (there is an art to spacing out the dose) and we would watch from there.

Each night I would go to bed wondering if I would wake up the next morning. This is not to sound dramatic, but realistic. I had internal bleeding that was “stable” but I was made aware that at any point I could throw a clot or my tube could rupture, and internal bleeding could kill me. If I felt anything strange, head to the ER-everything felt strange at this point. I was told to move slowly but to live my life, because the body will do what the body will do. Call me crazy but I went to work early the next week. I didn’t know what else to do. Adrenaline of denying what was happening, wanting to be there for my patients, not letting anyone down, the whole nine yards. I love my job, my patients, my coworkers and I just wanted to feel normal. I wanted to be there. But Lesson #2-I said if this ever happened again, I would not do this to myself because I realized later I wasn’t processing fully, and that is when things get bad.

Finally the day of the second injection came. I was sitting at work in the morning with a patient because the injection appointment was in the afternoon. I immediately got very dizzy and felt like I was going to pass out. I realized this was getting bad. Off to the Cleveland Clinic I went.

The next steps happened so fast, that once again it is a blur. The ultrasound showed profuse internal bleeding so I was to head to the ER immediately (we turned down the ambulance and my mom drove me). I have never seen a more well oiled machine than at the ER. Every doctor I had was incredible, caring and comforting. I know people dog on the big hospital systems, but mark my word I never will again. These doctors saved me in more ways than one, and I wish I could explain to them how much they helped me get through the first of many nightmares I would experience. You better believe I wrote them thank you cards after I was home because I love love love writing my gratitude.

My right fallopian tube had to be removed and when I woke up from surgery I asked the doctor two things- “are you sure you got it?” and “I have a trip to Europe in 6 weeks, can I still go?” He smiled at me and said “yes-we got it and yes-you absolutely can and you should.” He also told me that his first ever surgery on a fallopian tube was a patient who he later became friends with and who ended up having 3 healthy children. Slight optimism there. However my trauma response to the surgery was quite horrendous, and I could not stop shaking for four hours. They had to give me multiple calming drugs and nothing would work. They sedated me a bit to stop the violent trembling, but then it would come again. The pain on my left scar was unspeakable-when they asked me to move, I screamed bloody murder. It felt like my insides were ripping apart. (Come to find out weeks later, the bag they inserted during surgery was larger than normal due to a clot they found, and it caused extensive muscle damage to the area. I had to have a follow up CT scan due to the damage, and the day of the CT scan I got a flat tire-sign from the universe?)…

Finally hours later things calmed down and we went home, and so began my healing journey…but it was only just the start of a cascade of events.

Let me pause here. I wanted to be normal during this time. I went back to work within days, I talked to my friends and family and just wanted to be okay. I went to dinner that weekend, went on a boat a couple weeks later when I could stand the motion, and flew to Colorado to visit friends. Here is my giant message. NEVER judge someone by what they are going through, or what they are doing in their lives. You never know what is going on behind closed doors. I wanted to be normal. I wasn’t sick, I was in physical and emotional pain, but I wanted to be okay. So I carried on. I sat with the pain some days, and some days I pretended like nothing happened. Remember, there is no guidebook to any of this in life.

I started intense therapy with EMDR to move through the trauma, I did countless reiki sessions, meditated daily, prayed, journaled, worked with a clairvoyant, you name it. It was information overload, processing overload, but I did the best I could. I went to Europe and had an incredible time, swollen stomach and all. Came home with COVID, but hey that’s life now right? However leaving for Europe caused a large amount of panic because what happened last time I traveled without Andy? He is my safety net that’s for sure. I cried almost daily, mostly in the shower. But I was okay. I knew we would try again and the more I talked to people, the more I heard this happening, so on and on and on. My friends and coworkers were insanely supportive, again to the point I could never repay any of them, and my family was there for me every step of the way. People go through a HELL of a lot worse than this, and I was truly doing okay, all things considered.

But the fall came and went, but the trauma after trauma did not end…

I started seeing an endocrinologist for some blood levels that were abnormal and not changing (prolactin, for all my science friends). She raised her eyebrows at the pattern of hormones I had over the years and I was in for a brain MRI one week later. We found a benign pituitary adenoma which is basically a small hormone secreting brain tumor. The problem was, this hormone excess from the tumor could prevent ovulation. The tumor also could grow if we didn’t stabilize it through medication. You’re probably wondering if this had to do with the ectopic-well-there is no research about it but my intuition says yes. I will never know, but I began the medication and within 2 weeks the hormone was decreasing meaning the tumor was shrinking. This, my friends, is why modern medicine can be beautiful. Even though I practice in a world of preventative and alternative medication, there is a time and place.

Rewind a few weeks prior to this MRI, and Andy and I were driving down the freeway behind each other in the dark while pouring rain and a piece of metal (or who knows what) came flying at our cars. It immediately sliced his tire and then went under my car and sliced my gas tank open. Can’t make this shit up. A spiritual guide later told me that was probably a metaphor for my life, that I was running on empty and spewing out gas, and Andy needed to take time to halt to process everything that had happened. We truly are lucky we did not swerve and hit someone else, or that the metal did not go through our windshields. Counting our lucky stars, but hearing the messages loud and clear. But I perhaps didn’t take enough action to make some changes in my life as of yet.

Talk about sympathetic nervous system overload since mid July, and it was now mid October. I started to pray deeper, made significant mindset changes that I could share for another rainy day, started to process. I was meeting regularly with a spiritual guide, my therapist, my acupuncturist and I was getting into the thick of all of this. I was clearing out old emotions, old traumas even from childhood, connecting the dots and making changes. I was going inward, not making as many plans, just finally listening to myself. Amongst this horrible time, we were designing the inside of our beautiful home that we had bought, and I was having a BALL. My creative heart bloomed and I thought things were truly looking up. The praying and the work was paying off. God or whoever is up there was listening.

Well…November 22, 2022 I was minding my own business driving down Crocker Road on my way to work and WHAM. A woman cut me off and I had no choice but to swerve into a telephone poll, watching the pole fall to the ground, lift my car up and I understand later my jaw hit the steering wheel. I was going slow enough that the airbags did not go off, but fast enough that the whiplash symptoms lasted for a couple months, the car was totaled and my brain and nervous system reverted backwards into the deep dark state I had just climbed myself out of. Mind you I was driving my moms car because my car was still in the shop from the previous accident as we were dealing with an insurance battle from that one. Can’t. Make. This. Shit. Up. Even earlier that week, I had told my reiki practitioner and friend that things were looking up, that I could feel the shifts, so what the fuck was this? I sat in the ER with my sister and my mom in disbelief, defeat and exhaustion. My mom gave me a guardian angel token that day that I still carry around every day. My boss told me to take a mental health day the next day, and graciously I accepted this. All of these little indicents if isolated would be horrible but tolerable, but at this point I could not catch a break. It was the pile on of thing after thing. It would not be more than 3 weeks without something else, something else, something else, and I was at a pure loss. It was so much all at once. None of us knew what to do…I thought it was my fault for attracting all of this “bad luck” so I prayed and prayed and prayed some more, but man, was a I defeated. I just tried to pick back up again, because get knocked down 7 times, stand up 8…My spiritual mentor told me again that this was some sign to halt.

I’m not here to tell a sob story of poor me, but because at this point things got almost comical. Life could be a HECK of a lot worse. I think of things my friends, coworkers, family and patients have gone through and truly, my life is a beautiful blessed life. I think of what I have seen around the world, especially doing medical volunteering in some of the most desolate areas of South Africa and Peru. Life is beautiful when you choose to look around and find the beautiful things. Every day I was so grateful for what was going right, and I tried to hold on to the happy things and the glimmers of happiness every day had. I started to realize how much each day is a blessing, and life is a little miracle and just “woke up.” It’s sad that it takes things like this to really understand how precious life is. When you experience three life-risking events in a row, your mind begins to shift. And let me tell you this again, I am not here to say my life is a terrible life, because my life is beautiful. I am here to share because if anyone needs to read to relate, to talk to me, to share their hard times, I am all ears. This is also what is helping me cope. I feel the weight lifting as I write this, and even if no one gets this far into this, I don’t care one bit. I am doing this for myself to release everything that has happened. Everyone has so much happening every single day, whether big or small, and I know this from working with patients day in and day out and from hearing friends and family go through the hardest of hard things. The space I hold for everyone is huge, and I will forever be the biggest support system I can for anyone who needs it.

An aside. I spent the greater parts of 2019–2022 figuring my health out. After all, I do this for a living! I help women and men with their hormones, gut problems, energy problems, chronic pain, etc. etc. etc.! So obviously I would do this for myself. I had always had odd symptoms of crazy fatigue, hair loss, bloating and I did lose my period for 9 months during 2021 — come to find out the pituitary tumor was to blame for that one. However I did a LOT of work on myself physically and mentally, with the help of colleagues and my own functional medicine doctor, and healed most all ailments. I went into June 2022 (when we conceived the first time) feeling the best I had ever felt, with hormone levels booming with the exception of slightly low progesterone (due to the tumor I have also since figured out), but otherwise feeling wonderful. I was working out and eating according to my cycle, cut out a few last “toxic” habits I had that I didn’t even realize were effecting me, and really was on top of the world. So why me? Why would I go through an ectopic pregnancy? I will never, never know. And these thoughts were to come back full force in January of 2023.

After you receive methotrexate you are not to try to conceive again for 3 months because of the risk of birth defects. So we waited patiently from August-November to try again, and take a wild guess how those months felt. Agonizing, worrisome, annoyed, scared, frustrated, etc. etc. etc. and not to mention-poor Andy! But we decided to try again at some point in November because I will never forget what a friend told me “it’s more painful to not try again.” I thought, “God couldn’t do this to me again, right?”

So we tried, and the week we started moving into our new home, I took a pregnancy test. I did not realize it was positive until the next morning (lol) but oh my god, it was like my prayers were answered and the miracle I had asked for had arrived. I called Andy right away, and lived in pure bliss for weeks. We told our families on Christmas (because they would realize in a heartbeat why I wasn’t having wine) and everyone couldn’t believe it. I realized I was so blessed to be able to get pregnant, because that is half the battle. We spent New Year’s in Chicago at a wedding and let me tell you, hiding drinking is so hard! I feel you, every women who has done this. I thought I did it well but everyone later told me they had figured it out! My appointment was set for the second week in January, and I was carrying on my way so, so, so deeply happy and feeling fulfilled.

Friday January 6 I woke up and went to the bathroom and there was the tiniest amount of blood. The doom came flooding in. I remember feeling paralyzed in the bathroom and called Andy frantically. He tried to assure me this might be normal. I called the Cleveland Clinic and they also tried to assure me it was normal, but if it picked up to come in. I went to my acupuncture appointment and sobbed to my acupuncturist because I knew deep down something was wrong, again. I can still remember every part of that day. Driving to the appointment knowing this pregnancy was ending, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t think, felt like I was truly paralyzed but functioning. I happened to have my therapist also that morning at 11 AM and it was too late to cancel, but thank God for her. I sobbed to her and she is a fertility specific therapist, and she urged me to call the Cleveland Clinic again and demand I be seen. And so I did, and this time the nurse read my history and got me in within an hour.

As I am typing this, I truly feel a visceral response. I feel like I’m going to throw up and can’t breathe all at the same time. The pain is indescribable, and again, I don’t know how to politely say it, but until you experience something like this, it is so hard to explain the pain. Just as if I couldn’t explain the pain of something I have never gone through. It is a prickly, nauseating, intense pain that causes fear, dread, doom, worry, feelings of being broken, anger, frustration, jealously, pessimism and every other negative feeling out there. Every day you begin to question your body, your actions, your thoughts because you go into a “solve” mode of trying to figure out why this happened. You want to do everything you can to assure you don’t need to feel this pain again. And that is where Lesson #3 comes in-it’s never too late to re-write your narrative and change things that weren’t working. More on this later.

Andy left work and came with me to the doctor at Stephanie Tubbs Jones (the dreaded place) and when the doctor and nurse both looked at each other in silence, I knew the worst. “Well, we can’t really locate a gestational sac for certain, but we won’t know until we monitor you for a few days.” And so I went home, broken, paralyzed and numb. I would not leave bed for 2.5 days. I remember thinking, if I am this bad for this, how will I ever deal with something worse in life? I will be built of steel after all of this.

Another ectopic pregnancy? I would never be able to have kids naturally. I was broken. I would be stripped of the other half of my feminine organ system, I would never be the same. How would I tell work, friends, family? How would I go back to being me again? How would I go through this loss again? How would I take care of patients all day when I couldn’t even take care of myself? How will I figure out what’s wrong with me? What did I do wrong? How will I be there for my friends? How will I learn to be happy again? How will I smile like me again? How will I not enter into a deep depression? How will I ever be a mom? How will I move on from this?

2.5 days went by, and Monday morning came. I went to work. Call me crazy again, but when you are in these situations, you don’t know what to do. Adrenaline, wanting to feel normal, and caring for others is my passion and makes me feel good, so I wanted to feel good. I also was not ready to explain the intensity of what was happening. Also in my mind, I was prepping to have to have surgery again, and I didn’t want to have to move patients around any more than I thought I would have to coming up. So off I went. Mid morning work day, I got my hcg back and it was the dreaded number I had thought. It had stayed exactly the same. The doctor called me about 20 minutes later and so began a rushed experience of getting in for a more in depth ultrasound to confirm or deny an ectopic. Andy and I sat in this room at Hillcrest with the same ultrasound tech who did my last ultrasound back in July, and she said she thought she saw something in my uterus but couldn’t be certain. The doctor also thought he saw something, but also could not confirm. The images were to be sent to a team, and I was placed in the “high risk” category and was to drive to Westlake the next morning to see the next steps. So I went home, not sure if I was about to die of another rupturing tube, if it was just a miscarriage, or by some grace of God things were normal but I was early.

Tuesday morning came, and they said they suspected an empty gestational sac, but couldn’t confirm until they did a D&C. Because of my history of ectopic, I pleaded that I would not go home without a procedure that day to confirm or deny this pregnancy. I couldn’t wait until Friday when the next D&C appointment was available because of the agonizing state of wonder, fear and risk of rupture if it was ectopic after all. So they spent 45 minutes calling around, and I was told to get over to Stephanie Tubbs Jones as quickly as I could for a Manual Vacuum Procedure without anesthesia. I will leave that part up to your imagination. The doctor confirmed what is called a blighted ovum, or an empty gestational sac. There was immense relief that is was not ectopic after all, but of course dread and doom. I was almost at 8 weeks.

I went home that day and slept until the next morning. I do not remember that afternoon. I later realized Andy’s coworker dropped off food for us and I had a full conversation with her via text only because I re-read my texts, but my mind is blank. My mind is trying to protect me from the trauma of the procedure, but nightmares and flashbacks have haunted me. I am not trying to sound dramatic, but this is just exactly how it is. Anyone who has gone through a trauma, big or small, understands. Your mind does powerful things to protect you.

I went to work the rest of that week (for the record, my choice-my coworkers were so, so, deeply supportive) because once again, I wanted to feel normal. I could put on a strong face and turned my brain on-a million years of schooling will do that to you. My friends were impeccable. My support system never failed me and I could never have gotten through any of this without my most dear friends, coworkers, family, and Andy. The packages, flowers, unexpected pop-ins-it makes me choke up thinking about what everyone did. I could never repay you all. I never really understood how incredible people could be, some part of me was like wow, I am worthy of all this caring? Part of me realizes that everyone could see how badly I was struggling, and that those closest to you know how much it means to intervene in a time of need. My people are incredible, and I will never, ever ever leave any of your sides. I could never begin to say my gratitude enough. When you are forced to deal with your own shit, it makes you not be as available to help everyone else. That has been hard for me too, because I always want to make sure my friends and loved ones know I care so deeply, even if I have been slightly absent.

Being this low became my new normal. The next few weeks would be the lowest time of my life. I remember thinking many, many times that I understand why people need to rid themselves of pain. I was not going to take action, nor did I have a plan, but I remember that feeling and it haunts me. I don’t ever want to feel this grief, pain, worry, fear, dread, sadness or anger again. Andy became aware of the seriousness, and we had a few follow ups including a psychiatrist. Come to find out, I am not allowed to take SSRI’s because of the chemistry of brain tumor, so every day is a game of doing everything I can to pull myself out of bed, do something that makes me feel good, act normal even if I don’t feel normal, and slap a smile on even when I don’t feel like it. Some days I am okay, others I am in immense pain inside. I wish I could explain why and I wish I could get out of these feelings, but sometimes you really cannot control your brain or the chemistry inside of it. Call it postpartum depression-twice-without any children to show for it. It might sound silly to someone reading this — “ it’s just pregnancy loss, you didn’t even know your children, etc. etc.” and those are totally valid thoughts. Even sometimes I feel silly for being this sad, depressed, fearful and worried. I wish I could explain why this has hit me so hard, but I am understanding that it is not just one isolated incident, but it is the series of events that has left my nervous system in fight or flight since that first July ER visit, and I am left to unpack the baggage.

Well here I am, working to unpack the baggage. I am working with two therapists/guides-one who does EMDR and one who is has a medical intuitive past and works with clearing out trauma, healing inner child and restoring my womb. I meditate, I am working out, I eat quite well, I have barely touched alcohol, I journal, I read, I process. I have not brushed off any advice anyone has given, or any therapists/guides/sessions that people have suggested. I am processing slowly, and I will get to them when it is time, but I can only process a little at a time and fear for information overload. I am not in a place to analyze things medically because I can’t yet due to hormones, and my brain isn’t really ready either. It is all in the timing of what my brain wants to do, and that is what I need to accept.

We had a follow up with a pre-conception doctor who specializes in histories like mine, and was told that these are two very traumatic incidents that are likely unrelated. She told us in the most kind way possible to carry on, and that the universe will be good to us one day…

Back to my lessons:

Always listen to your gut, always.

Take the time away from life, social plans, work, etc. I realized I did not take enough time away from work (my own choice at the time!) but it hit me a few weeks later. I sort of knew this would happen, but again, I wanted to be normal and bury myself in what made me feel good.

It’s never too late to make changes for your mind and body. I have made significant changes to my every day life, activities, work, where I spend my energy, and still continue to. I have to because unless I want to keep living in this loop, I need to re-write my future and become healthy again.

I will end with this. To anyone-whether a stranger, a patient, a friend, a family member-if you have gone through pregnancy loss, I understand and I hear you. It is so hard to comprehend and it is so hard to explain the pain, but no one really needs to understand. They just need to listen, and I can be here to do that too. Being around pregnant people, hearing a commercial, finding out a friend is pregnant, finding out a patient is pregnant or going to a baby shower are not easy-I will not lie. But it does not take away my pure happiness and joy for that person. The sadness comes from the “why did this happen to me and what is wrong with me” thoughts, but hearing this news from others gives me deep happiness for that person, excitement and SO much joy, and gives me a glimmer of optimism for myself and restores my faith in mother nature. I have also chosen to stay off social media because for some reason the ads think it’s funny to focus solely on pregnancy loss or pregnancy and I do not have the bandwidth for it at this time, and I love not being on!

I have felt what it feels like to be pregnant. The excitement, bliss, tears, miracle, wondrous emotions. The changes in my body even over a few weeks. Downloading the apps, taking out the sushi and alcohol (even for a short time), writing down two due dates, daydreaming if it is a girl or a boy, excited for this transition for Andy and I after 11 years together (woah), leaving the nursery empty to begin to decorate, imagining giving the baby baths in our new farm sink. I have experienced the fleeting emotions like fulfillment, joy and began to feel a higher purpose like I have never felt before. Ready to shift my life in the best way yet. And this has been stripped from us twice. That is what causes the unbearable pain. To feel the emotions and excitement of what is to come, but then watch it dissolve in front of you without a single thing you can do. It is overwhelming pain, but pain I do not want to stick with me forever. I joke that the day I am pregnant again, I won’t care if I am throwing up every day as long as that baby comes into my arms 9 months later. My newest therapist told me I need to start living my life like I am pregnant, so that I can just imagine this joy every day again, even if it is just a daydream. Might sound crazy, but it has helped to heal me.

For anyone who has gone through tremendous pain, no matter what the cause, I may not be able to put myself in your exact shoes, but I understand the depth of depression that can set in. Like I said in the beginning, you never know what someone is experiencing. Depression is very, very scary and even though people (including myself) might seem fine on the outside, the brain is a damn powerful and scary organ sometimes. Be there for your people, be there for strangers, be there for anyone who needs it.

My husband told me last night that he chooses not to live in the past of what has happened. Even though he has processed differently, he needs to move forward. That shook me. I realized I have been stuck in a loop of replaying what has happened, because that’s what my brain is choosing to do. But I am ready to wake up and let this go. I don’t want to live this pain over and over again, I want to be myself again and wake up to see the beauty of life-smile, taste good food, feel my dogs fur, hug a patient, plan my next trip, paint, be present with friends, feel my feet on the ground during a run, play with my friends kids, laugh with my mom, and just be me again. Anyone who needs a little spark of a new beginning, may this be your inspiration. ❤

With love,

Melissa