My Baby

How do you spell a big sigh? Because that's how I want to start this post.

I was that girl growing up. The one making file folder games and babysitting fliers. The one volunteering to watch all the neighborhood kids during Relief Society activities. I was the one that always wanted to play "house" and always wanted to be the mom. Even as a teenager and young adult, I still gravitate toward the kids in a group setting. I'd rather play patty cake than talk politics. Sitting at the kids table generally doesn't bother me. When we were called as Nursery Leaders in our first ward as a married couple, we mostly got condolences. I didn't get it - it was exactly what I wanted. I felt too young and out of place in relief society. Hanging out with toddles for 2 hours? That is right up my alley.

I was that girl, dreaming of motherhood, in my childhood. And I was that wife, who never thought it was too soon to start trying. It took a year or two for Devin to come around, and I'm glad it did, because I wouldn't trade these years of just us for anything, and I think we really needed it. But when he finally did come around, we were full force baby mode. It was all baby all the time. We talked about it, texted about it, emailed about it. We had lists of names drafted up and maternity plans in place. So we started trying.

A month or two went by - it was normal. The hormones from the birth control probably just needed time to get out of my system. Then three or four months went by... and I couldn't hide my frustration. Mother's Day was awful. Lots of stress set in around this time with family issues and endless catastrophes - I think it was taking a toll on me. Months five and six came and went - devastatingly. I wrote one day "you know when you go to a sporting event and they start throwing wadded up t-shirts into the crowd, and you're standing up and waving your arms and yelling but you never catch one? that's what I feel like God is doing with pregnancies right now."

Month seven was one for the books. Everybody else was getting pregnant or having a baby. I wrote "seven months had come and gone. it didn't seem like it had been seven months until I stepped back and counted them out. the kind of thing where you don't notice any change it happening because you're living through the change every day, and it's so subtle when you're up close to it, but you take a step back and whoa, it's been a long time. more than half a year. almost a full term pregnancy. seven months. i wasn't sure what to do next. just keep going? persistence? is that all it was? i wasn't sure what other options i had. the onset of depression was... inquisitively demanding. and truly, very depressing. nothing is more depressing than depression. it was all encompassing. it insisted i sulk. it angrily yanked my energy from my very being, and it stripped me of my motivation. it robbed me of any sense of accomplishment, and it wore me down until i was dull. literally, my span of emotion was so short and melancholy, I had become boring. I lacked interest in... everything. I was so painfully aware of the emptiness inside of me. I was hollow."

And then came month 8. Saturday, September 27th. Devin was out of town for a school trip and wouldn't be back until the next day. A series of unfortunate events had happened that morning, and I was miserable. I was a few days late, but I didn't want to take a test without Devin, and I had taken enough pregnancy tests to know I didn't want tangible evidence of my unpregnantness. It was too hard. But that morning, I snapped. I just had to know. I stormed out of work early, and chugged a water bottle on the drive home - walked straight to the bathroom and took a test.

Do you know how agonizing those 3 minutes are?

I finally peered over the counter and saw the result: "pregnant". I dropped whatever was in my hands. I collapsed onto the bathroom floor and sobbed. I was finally pregnant. Finally. I couldn't believe it. I got up onto my knees and said the most grateful and humbled prayer of my life. My cheeks were burning, I was smiling so big. I was the happiest moment of my life. I couldn't wait to tell Devin.

The next month was so exciting. I was anxious to see a doctor - My OBGYN doesn't see pregnant patients until they are 10-12 weeks so I had awhile before I could go in, but that didn't stop me from checking pregnancy apps daily, reading all the books, making all the lists, and doing a little shopping. We told family and began telling close friends. It was such an exciting time! It was finally my turn to do all the things I had watched so many other women do! It was finally my turn! It was also fun to see people announce pregnancies that would be due right around me! That blessed day, May 31st! It didn't seem too far away. I wanted that baby in my arms already, but I wanted the pregnancy, too. I was totally content with spending the next 8 months or so growing a baby. It would be worth it.

On Sunday, the 19th of October, I was 8 weeks pregnant on the dot. It was time for family photos - we had been trading off with our friends, the Medley's for 3 years now - Devin and Jared are both photographers, so taking turns behind the camera was a really efficient way for all of us to get updated photos every fall. We wanted to use these photos to announce our pregnancy and got some really cute shots. We were so excited! We would wait to announce until after our first ultrasound, but the little stuff like this made it all seem more real, and kept us from getting too anxious.

On Wednesday, the 22nd, I began having complications. I'll spare you the details - they're personal and inappropriate. In a panic, I rushed to my doctor's clinic after being advised by the medical assistant to do so. Devin met me there. I was trying to stay calm, but I broke down as soon as I saw his face. There is this weird thing that happens to you as a wife, when you're trying to get pregnant. You start to feel really responsible, and there's a lot on your shoulders that you're being counted on for. I knew it wasn't true, but I felt like a failure. There was that man, and his baby wasn't okay. And I was in between them. He was so collected, and kept me at ease.

We spoke with a doctor (not my doctor, but a different one in her office) and at first, he made me feel dumb for even going in. that all of this was normal this early, and I was probably just fine. You could tell he's calmed down many a first time mama. He explained why things like this happen, and why they're considered normal. I felt like I was wasting his time, but I still felt nervous. He then went on to talk about miscarriage. I didn't pay much attention, because I wouldn't be miscarrying. I just wouldn't. We tried for 8 months for this baby, there was no way we were losing it, we hadn't done anything wrong. We were ready for this, we wanted this. It was finally our turn. I wasn't having a miscarriage. Plus, my symptoms weren't nearly as bad as the ones he was explaining. They drew some blood to check my HCG (pregnancy hormone) levels, and I went back a few hours later for an ultrasound.

I was so excited to get an ultrasound! The news we'd be getting one that day completely lifted my spirits. I wasn't supposed to have one for 2 more weeks, so I thought it was a bonus I'd get an extra one! First she checked my uterus, then my ovaries. Then moved onto the baby. I noticed it as soon as it popped up on the screen. that was a baby, no doubt. My baby. I knew it. But my first thought was that it seemed small. I didn't worry about it though because the baby looked great! We couldn't hear the heartbeat, but we could sure see it! The baby was practically bouncing, it's heart was beating so fast and strong! The ultrasound technician was making me feel uncomfortable though. She kept making frustrated noises and telling me to hold my breath, don't move. When she finally spoke, she said the baby was measuring almost 2 weeks behind. She was measuring my baby at 6 weeks 4 days, but I was without a doubt 8 weeks 3 days. I didn't feel like that was a problem. I'd be find to push my due date back, whatever. Small baby doesn't necessarily mean unhealthy baby. They sent me back to work and said they'd call me with bloodwork results. One things she said, in passing, really stung. "The baby just might not be thriving" - I imagine that's how moms feels when they are scolded for their parenting style.

I went back to work and not long after, noticed my symptoms getting worse. I called and left a message with the medical assistant, and as I was walking out to my car at 5:00, she returned my call. She said "I spoke with Dr. Robinson and unfortunately, the symptoms you are describing are more consistent with miscarriage." and that's when my heart sank, to a place it's stayed ever since.

Devin was supposed to be in class that night, but when I called and told him what the doctor said, he decided to come home. There wasn't anything we could do until Friday, when we would get more blood drawn to compare to the blood we had drawn that day and see what was happening with my HCG levels. With pregnancy, they are supposed to at least double, each week. I was hopeful, but doubtful at the same time. I didn't know how to feel.

Friday came and we went to the clinic once again. The medical assistant told me that she could draw my blood, but if she did, I wouldn't get results back until Monday. She said she could send an order down to the hospital and we would get my results back before the end of the day. So we drove down to Outpatient Services for more bloodwork. The nurse there was nice, but not nearly as gentle, and she took twice as much blood. I was so dizzy and not feeling good (I think my limit is one vile. That second vile gets to me!) I was so embarrassed, but I was so sure I was going to pass out. Luckily, I didn't and was able to pull out of it, but I was not feeling good at all! We got some food and then headed home to take it easy. It was only 4:00, we were driving on the freeway and my doctor's office called. Devin turned the radio down, and I braced myself. The medical assistant very calmly explained to me that my HCG levels from Wednesday were at 8700, and today they were at 6800. A sure sign of miscarriage. Tears were rolling down my face and Devin reached over and grabbed my hand. He knew. The nurse kept talking to me, but I wasn't listening. I felt bad for her, because it was obviously not a call she wanted to make. I knew she knew I was crying. I eventually hung up on her.

We got home and sat on the couch. We still hadn't said a word. We just cried. Eventually I turned to Devin and told him I felt calm. He nodded his head. We started calling our parents and siblings and telling them the news. It was tough. Right when I thought I had made my last call, I realized I hadn't spoken with my dad yet. I burst into tears. I've always had a special relationship with my dad, and I didn't want to have to tell him bad news. I hated the thought of having to do it, but as soon as he picked up the phone (right as he was dialing me, ironically), he knew exactly what to say. He talked me down, and I sobbed the whole time. He made me feel so much better, so validated, and everything he said to me will stick with my forever. He told me that I am a mother to that child, and that I won't get to raise that baby here, but I will eventually. He told me that that baby will always be a part of my family. Dads always know just what to say!

Oddly enough, Devin and I decided not to cancel our plans that night. We still went to the dealership like we had planned, to look at trading in one of our cars. We still went out to dinner with friends. We had a good time, we were happy and really enjoyed ourselves. Maybe that's mostly because it hadn't really hit us yet. I was so glad we had the weekend to process everything though. The pain started that night and got progressively worse over the next several days. I took most of that week off, and spent most the time in pain. I had so many people stop by and spend time with me, bring me meals and small gifts. The smallest things were the biggest gestures to me. I had so much help and so much support. And it made everything so much more manageable. [I remember on Thursday, in between blood draws, having no answers and feeling so vulnerable and scared, I stayed home and put myself on bed rest. I wasn't dressed, I hadn't even looked in the mirror that day, and my doorbell rang. When I looked through the peephole, I burst into tears. Standing there, completely unannounced was my sister, McKayla, her baby Scarlett and a bag of treats and presents to cheer me up. It was the sweetest thing, and I still cry thinking about it! I also remember multiple days, being comforted by my sister in law Chloe. She was at my house almost every day, bringing meals, pain medication, heating pads, advice, stories, and whatever else I could have possibly needed. She sat with me through the blood draw that Devin couldn't make it to, she drove me around, she sent me flowers, and she stayed up with me late almost every night, texting and talking and making me feel leaps and bounds better than I ever would have without her.]

It still didn't feel real. I mean, I was in pain, that was real. But because I was so early on in my pregnancy, and I wasn't showing, and I wasn't having terrible pregnancy symptoms, and I hadn't seen a doctor, I didn't really feel pregnant to begin with. I felt the same as I always did.So it didn't feel real when I lost the baby either. It still doesn't. I feel like I have moments of realization, that hit hard and knock the wind out of me, but part of my feels like it never happened. That sounds horrible, but it's hard to explain. It's like losing something you never quite had.

I've had blood drawn almost every other day since my complications began, to follow my HCG levels down to a negative number (you shouldn't have any in your system unless you're actually pregnant.) And the physical pain has finally subsided. I have been waiting for the reality, the emotional pain to hit me (I'm sure it will be much worse than the physical pain, which is truly saying something!) but it hasn't yet. Or maybe it won't. I still struggle with it a lot. Especially on Sundays, my turnover days, where I counted my weeks to. Today is hard. It was supposed to be my first official "i'm pregnant" Doctor's appointment and my first ultrasound. I'm supposed to be 10 weeks 2 days today. That's hard. And I have hard moments. I'm back to the "everyone is pregnant but me" blues, and it's not a fun place to be. But I know it will get easier with time, and it helps that I have an adorable little angel in heaven that can't wait to meet me one day!

My baby isn't like your baby. My baby isn't in my arms, or even in my belly for that matter. My baby is already in heaven. But that doesn't make my baby any less my child, I don't think.