another miscarriage

I’m not going to lie… I was hoping to start drafting an “announcement post” soon, to inform all of you guys about our news.  The news of Baby #3, our sweet boy or girl that was due in June 2019.  That tiny little being was so wanted and already very loved.  We were going to get through the traditional first trimester before sharing publicly, but had been feeling positive and great about it all.  Writing this is emotional and extremely vulnerable, but I am sure that the ability for all of us to connect through similar stories can help mend.  If this reaches one mama out there who will know she is not alone, I see you, I feel you…  Some things may be a little difficult to read, so I just want to prepare you of some unpleasant thoughts and words beforehand.  Here is the raw narrative of my 4th pregnancy, with some history too…

A little back story first.  Zach and I have really come around to the whole idea of growing our family.  When we met, Kamille was five years old.  He quickly fell in love with her, so much to the point that he was convinced there could be no child as good 😉  It was a little hard to argue but as time went on, we were preparing for marriage and our life together.  Personally, I knew for a fact I would want another baby someday, and I really thought just ONE.  Many who know Zach now, may find this hard to believe but I had to BEG the man to have a baby.  It was sometimes an argument as to when we were going to ’try’ or if we even would at all.  He was so content with just the three of us.  I finally got him on my side and around the time we moved into our now home in July of 2016, we began our journey of trying to conceive.  

It was just a little over a month later, I  went for a routine exam with a new OBGYN in town.  I had recently started doing his wife’s hair who had recommended me to him for an appointment since I wanted to begin the journey of having a baby.  I know it may seem funny, but they are two of my best friends now and some of the best humans I’ve ever met.  At the first visit, one thing led to another of me saying I was a couple weeks late, to a blood test, to verrrrrry low, but positive, HCG levels that day.  Yeah, that is how I found out I was ‘technically’ pregnant.  Those of you who have tracked and charted pregnancy may know that the level of 27 is almost as low as it gets.  That was my number.  Dr. Torbati had called me two hours later over the phone, explaining to me that it may be a chemical pregnancy, or I could have JUST conceived.  We retested levels two days later and they were a little higher but still low, around 45.  It was okay, but still not super promising being so early.  We were going to enjoy a weekend in Stillwater at the football game and retest the following week, we were excited!  Sunday evening I started to bleed.  Sadly, that short pregnancy ended and left me confused and disappointed for days.  

Fast forward seven weeks.  Zach and I had a weekend planned in one of our favorite towns, Eureka Springs, Arkansas.  I remember texting Dr. Torbati, irritated that my cycle was ‘so off’ since the miscarriage on September 10th.  He recommended progesterone to help kick-start my period and hopefully I would be ovulating again soon after.  So, that was the plan.  Monday I picked up my prescription for progesterone and would take it the next morning.  He also told me to remember to take a pregnancy test as you shouldn’t take the medication while pregnant.  Tuesday morning came, I peed on the cheapest test I could find when I was barely even awake… Dark positive!  What!?  That is why my cycle never returned, our little embryo, miss Rosalie was already hanging out in my womb.  We were on our way to what would be our completed family after all.  

The day after Rosie was born, it was early in the morning as I looked over at Zach with tears (AKA hormones) rolling down my face and declared “I know I want another baby!”  It was literally an amazing experience that I just knew we weren’t done.  It never really seemed like a question if we would or wouldn’t do it all again.  It was simply understood.  Around the time Rosalie was nine months old in March, I felt the baby fever starting to sink in.  I assumed it would probably take at least a few months.  If it happened around her birthday, that would be a pretty good gap, so we started to try again around that timeframe.  When her birthday arrived, it hit me hard.  I think the reality of now having a toddler actually made me REALLY want a baby again, anyone else?  Nah?  Call me crazy, but it’s true.  

Then came the OPKs (Ovulation Predictor Kits) and my favorite tracking app, Glow.  Glow helps a lot with seeing your cycle and your most fertile days.  Those were the two main things that I have always done when TTC (Trying to Conceive), along with prenatal vitamins, 81 mg Aspirin and a balanced diet.  For the mama’s who have been there, you know how anxious and LONG each cycle can be.  From the first day of your period, you wonder “could this be our month?”  After the fertile window (when all the magic happens) you are left with about two whole weeks of waiting.  This phase is known as the TWW (Two Week Wait), also the longest two weeks ever!  Often times, women will test early, a few days before their expected period.  When I would test each month trying for baby #3, I would start around 10 DPO (Days Post Ovulation), and honestly when the test would appear “negative” I knew it wasn’t our month.  Of course I would test and test again until I knew I was out.  

This past August and September were both disappointing cycles, just because they were bringing me all the fall feels and the hope for conceiving again for a late Spring/early Summer baby!  Then we could possibly have children in May, June and July!  Unfortunately it was big fat negative in August, and again in September.  Zach had talked about it would be cool to get pregnant in October because it would be super close to the girls’ birthdays- June 22nd and July 11th.  So of course another cycle was upon us, and I decided to try PreSeed.  Preseed is a fertility-friendly lubricant that I’ve heard can make a big difference.  It is specially formulated so it won’t limit or harms the sperm.

My birthday was coming up and we had some exciting plans to head down to Broken Bow with friends.  We were leaving Friday afternoon, my birthday was on a Thursday, October 11th.  I had decided to test for the first time that cycle on my actual birthday because that was 10 days post ovulation and thats usually when I do.  In a way, at least this time if it was negative, we had a lot of fun right ahead of us to keep me looking forward, because… WINERIES, duh!  Anyway, I woke up, went to the restroom, busted open the FRER (First Response Early Result) test, and peed.  Rosie was already awake and running around in the bedroom, so I sat it on the counter and went to grab her.  My eyes stayed fixed on it as the first line immediately started faintly turning pink, and the second line as well.  Like, there were two freaking lines right away!  I couldn’t stop rubbing my sleepy eyes, which quickly filled with tears.  WHAT?!  Really?  On my birthday?!  On my thirtieth damn birthday!  Yeah, of course we strategically tried to make this happen for months, yes the days added up perfectly, yes this was what I wanted so, so badly- but it’s still somehow THE most shocking moment, every single time.

Alllllll the thinking, impulsive planning, Pinteresting, how I would tell Zach, when my due date would be, started to invade my happy over-stimulated mind.  I paced the floors, everyone had just left the house for work/school and it was just me and Rosie.  We had our own private little dance party in the house for a good hour.  What a blessing, what a perfect day, birthday, year, life… I was so lucky and I knew it.  I was given the ultimate gift, our third baby, Kamille and Rosie’s sibling.  Couldn’t be a sweeter feeling.  Later that night we went to dinner with my family.  Life was good.

The grand scheme was to wait and tell Zach on his 35th birthday, Halloween day.   How in the world could I wait THREE weeks, but, then again how cool would it be to surprise him and make his birthday just as special as mine??  That was my tentative approach for a day or two.  I told my mama support group on facebook first, the group I’ve grown so close to for the past two years since I was pregnant with Rosie.  They also knew how badly I wanted this and followed my journey of TTC this time.  I had longed to make that post, the picture of me holding the very first test after finding out like so many other members of the group.  I posted my shaky picture, they all showered me with love and birthday wishes.  Dreamy, blissful day!

Off to Broken Bow the next afternoon and I woke up with the best little secret, and it was KILLING me not telling him- in an exciting way.  So many times in the car, I just wanted to burst it out!  We went to dinner with friends that night, I went to bar and ordered a mocktail to disguise the fact that I wasn’t drinking alcohol, and had a great time.  The next morning, the two of us went to the grocery store to grab some food for our cabin.  I could no longer hold it in.  I said super casually, “Hey, I was going to show you something in my phone”.  I know, not the coolest way.  I went to the photo of my test and he looked and replied, “What does that mean?  Are you pregnant?”  

-“YES!”  I had told him.  As simple as it was just saying that word, I felt so amazing, he knew!  He was all smiles and I had finally shared the news with my husband, my best friend.  

Kamron (Dr. Torbati) told me we really didn’t have a need to test hormone levels through a blood test because I had been impulsively testing already and they were very dark lines.  Like, guys, IMPULSIVELY!  You really may think I am crazy when you see how many days in a row I peed on a stick!  HA!  No shame here, it was a daily reminder and peace to see those lines progress, which indicates a higher hormone level each day.  Sure enough, they did!  My very last test was so dark, the dye pulled  much on the “test” line from the “control” line, to the point where it almost looked negative.  To the mama’s who have impulsive testing habits, you know this is what you want to see ultimately, am I right?  So it was all textbook at that point, we had scheduled our first ultrasound appointment for 6 (ish) weeks, on Zach’s birthday and Halloween. 

It was going to be a perfect day if all went well.  Also, I had been a little weirded out due to the fact I experienced nearly zero symptoms this far, no sore boobs early on, no nausea like before.  The only thing that was definitely apparent was the exhaustion in the afternoons, and whew!- It was big time!  Anyway… we arrive to the appointment and go into the scanning room.  The tech said we would first try to see it abdominally vs vaginally (yay).  There was our tiny sac, and if you looked hard enough, the tiny speck of a baby.  If you looked EVEN harder, the flickering heart!!!  All my symptom-less worries were out the window.  I WAS pregnant and it would start to maybe sink in, at last.  She told me everything looked great and I was about six weeks along, adding up to my charts just right.  Zach’s birthday, Halloween, and our first sight of baby made for a night to always remember.

Two nights later, Zach and I took Rosie to eat at Rib Crib.  I was so tired (per usual) and looked forward to getting cozy on the sofa later after dinner and a shower.  I had envisioned a weekend of leisure and relaxation.  Nothing sounded better after an awesome, full and busy week.  We arrived home from dinner and I had to pee SO bad.  I rushed to the restroom, peeeeeeed, and wiped.  WTF!  Bright. Red. Blood.

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If you could physically feel your heart drop a few inches inside of your chest, that is exactly what I felt.  Texted my doctor and quickly started to become highly anxious.  He knew by my picture it was a lot more than “spotting”.  Y’all, I was BLEEDING.  I cried.  I tried to take some deep, steady breaths, they weren’t happening.  I didn’t even shower that night (I know, gross).  Just changed clothes, texted more, posted in my mama group, talked to Zach, and the WORST of all- Google.

I knew about bleeding during pregnancy, and that it’s not “good” but it isn’t always what you think either.  So many of my close moms in the group shared their stories with me that night, trying to calm my nerves, and it helped a little.  The thing that also helped some, was that we just saw the healthy baby and heartbeat twice.  Once on Wednesday at the first scan, and again on the doctor’s machine at my first OB visit.  That gave me a bit of hope, but still so terrified.  

Saturday morning the bleeding was a bit heavier, scarier, reflecting a full-blown period.  We all knew it was not looking promising.  We went in early for an ultrasound, this time transvaginal for a closer exam.  Anxiously watching, I quickly spotted that same, bright, round little sac.  Inside was our baby just flickering away, and I swear looking even bigger just three days later from last time.  Oh my heart!  Zach was standing by me holding me, tears filling our eyes, the best news we honestly were not expecting.  We were able to record the precious heartbeat in a stuffed elephant and were given some pictures.  Dr. Torbati explained that there is still risk of miscarriage, however our chances were higher of being successful since it all looked good that day.  The bleeding was caused by a (SCH) Subchorionic Hematoma.  They are often not harmful to baby or mother.  We left the hospital hugging so tight, more grateful than ever.  I read somewhere later on the ole faithful Google, the chances of miscarriage with a SCH *after* a heartbeat is detected is 3-5%.  I really thought we were all okay.

The bleeding from being at the doctors office to three hours later was then very, very minimal.  Like going away.  Thank goodness.  I feel like we had been on a rollercoaster of emotions, and we had, but at least on the positive side of things.  We decided to take Rosie for a little stroll downtown to the festival.  I took it very easy but was convinced from earlier that the SCH had already dissolved.  All day, still scared to death to pee and wipe, but each time was nothing besides very light spotting.  ‘Relief’ was an understatement. 

We got home, I cooked a Blue Apron meal, we even popped a frozen pumpkin pie in the oven for dessert.  It was a quiet night at home.  We put Rosie down for bed, watched our nightly recording of Shark Tank and were so cozy and lazy.  After all, that is what two very grateful parents with littles do on a wild Saturday night 😉 

Something felt off at bedtime.  I was starting to feel bloated, slightly crampy and a little uncomfortable.  Also, I had more blood show up the last time I peed before going to bed. *Deep, deep sigh*  

As soon as I woke up Sunday morning, I could feel that I was at it again.  Bleeding.  This time WAY heavier, dark red blood.  But wait- was this the hematoma passing?  Could this be good?  I heard multiple stories from others about the same thing happening when it dissolved, and with healthy pregnancies.  Holding on to that thought so much, we were going to monitor it but he didn’t want me being on complete bed rest.  In fact, he said to live life at this point, whatever happens is going to happen with my body, but to definitely take it easy.  We needed to get out, we decided to go grab lunch.  Deep down, I was worried.  We both were, although we wanted to remain calm.  The weather couldn’t have been any more beautiful.  It was sunny and 75 degrees.

“We saw a healthy heartbeat, we saw our perfect baby”… I would remind myself over and over and over in my head.  We get to the restaurant, I get out of the car and felt a big gush.  I scurried to the restroom to find (TMI) a lot of large blood clots and then some discolored looking tissue.  I immediately started sobbing, then loud, ugly cry in the stall.  I could hear people in there, but I had to let it out.  Honestly, regardless of knowing what the fuck had just happened.  The entire day.  The entire three days.  I couldn’t try to figure this out any longer, it was out of my hands.  I make it back to the table where I see my sweet husband and baby girl eating an appetizer and coloring.  I sat down and he asked very cautiously, “How did it go?” 

-“Not good.”  All the tears.

In the midst of Google, texting doctor, the mama group chat, and feeding Rosie… I was DESPERATELY wanting to believe the hematoma passed.  Zach asked if there was anything I wanted before leaving Tulsa.  It is not like me to leave town without stopping at Starbucks for a Pumpkin Spice Latte, and either way things were going, I felt like I was more than deserving.

To the hospital we go, late that afternoon, you know the drill.  Up on the table, onto the ultrasound, again…

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You could hear a pin drop.  We were looking.  Looking… Still looking… “C’mon, I know your in there precious baby… we just saw you yesterday and you were perfect.”   My mind was beginning to spin into a whirlwind of all the scariest thoughts.  There was my uterus.  The same uterus we saw the day before.  Except this time it was empty.  That bright, round, healthy sac holding a baby was nowhere to be found.  My dear friend, Kamron, was obviously hurt also.  I knew how much he hated it for us as he just told me the news I was fearful of hearing.

They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.  But does it?  I am not “handling” this situation in any way other than very poorly.  It may appear to be that I am functioning fine, but what am I supposed to do?  I feel fragile, disoriented, weary and angry.  I don’t have anyone or anything to be angry towards though, and that is the tough part.  We must carry on, live life and take risk after risk, often times without answers or logic.  And that is what hurts the most- The infamous ‘unknown’.  I sit and wonder what the baby would have been like, looked like, a boy or another darling girl.  We will never know.  I do know that I loved it already.  I wished for him/her for many, many moons.  I may not physically carry my baby with me anymore, but I am forever grateful for the days of joy while I did.

I will continue to feel affliction, yet I will allow myself this time to hurt.  I will gain strength, peace and comfort, but not today, and probably not tomorrow.  I will survive this season like before and be hopeful for another pregnancy eventually.  If you happen to be grieving for what ever reason, please know you are never alone.  If you need an understanding friend to lean on, I am here for you.  Just from posting on Instagram, I have received a high volume of messages from many people (some I personally know).  These individuals have graciously reached out with their unique and similar stories.  If anything at all comes from opening this wound, it makes the community of transparent motherhood so empowering.  I can’t express enough how meaningful each and every message is to me.  Thank you all from the bottom of my broken heart. 

Another rainbow will come… 

“Wandering soul


Wandering mind


Wondering what’s gone wrong with me 


And try not to try


Swayed by the wind


Swayed by desire


Can’t reach the moon up above 


And I don’t dare touch the fire


‘Cause the trouble with wanting is I want you


The trouble with wanting is I want you


The trouble with wanting is I want you


And I want you all the time”


-Joy Willams