I’ve tracked every menstrual cycle, every intercourse, every mood, every positive and negative ovulation test, every symptom, and every detail about my body and it’s changes to arrive at 6 months of failed attempts of getting pregnant.
Month by month there was hope. But it always ended in disappointment. As I cried that I wasn’t going to do this again next month.
But I did.
I kept tracking.
I kept hoping.
I kept praying.
Month after month.
April came and left without a sign of my period. I’m usually spot on with my cycle. After day one of being late, I began to question.
Day two came without a sign of my period, still.
Day three, nothing.
Day four, there it was…bleeding.
But hours later it was gone.
By day five, it was gone. Completely gone.
Pregnancy tests still kept coming back negative. I was confused. What is wrong with me? After a few more days of waiting, I took yet another pregnancy test. And to my surprise, there it was, a faint line.
I just sat there in disbelief on the bathroom floor as tears filled my eyes. “God, are you serious?”
Again, as with the last pregnancy, Bobby and I had to FaceTime in order for him to see the positive result. It’s ironic how we weren’t together both times we found out I was pregnant. He was just as happy as I was and I could barely keep it together. Finally…we were expecting Baby Sock #2! Or what Bobby called “abs” (Another Baby Sock).
I kept checking each day to see if it was still there. And it was. Still pregnant!
A week went by, symptoms started coming on and I felt nauseous as heck! I was peeing a ton, too. I remembered this! And I was welcoming it with joy.
But something didn’t feel right.
I just knew.
Days after finding out, my symptoms were starting to disappear. I started to “not feel pregnant”. I took another test and it was faint, barely visible. I took another and it was hard to see but it still said positive. I took another digital and it still read “Pregnant 1-2”
The next morning, I had bleeding. Not a lot but just a little. And it just so happened to be Mother’s Day. How ironic. But I tried not to worry, considering intercourse can cause this to happen in the beginning weeks.
The day after Mother’s Day, I woke up to a whole lot of blood. I was sick with worry. Bobby took me to see the OBGYN and she did emergency ultrasound. As I lied there in tears, holding onto his hand while Josie quietly sat there in her car seat, the Doctor covered me up as she finished the ultrasound and says, “there’s nothing there anymore, Stacy. I’m sorry.”
“You’re having a miscarriage.”
“I’m so so sorry. You’re going to pass this baby and it’s going to be uncomfortable.”
I lost it.
My hands went into my face where I could barely catch my breath. As I sobbed and sobbed, Bobby just hugged me, putting his fingers through my hair and not saying anything at all. He then pulled my face towards his and said, “it’s okay babe. We will keep trying. We will keep trying until it happens. Everything happens for a reason. I promise, it will be okay. I’m sorry that you’ve got to go through this. And I’m sorry that I have to leave today.”
The ride home was horrible. I couldn’t stop crying. I said over and over to him how frustrated I was with how upset I was. I absolutely hate crying. But I was so sad. So so sad. I really wanted this. I was so happy just a few days ago. What went wrong? What did I do? Why?
I may have only had a week of knowing that I was pregnant. But I was almost 7 weeks pregnant. It may have only been one week, but it was a week of planning, happiness, and excitement. I looked up names and thought of colors. I dreamed of a little sister or brother for Josie. I dreamed of feeling those flutters in my belly and hearing that heartbeat. I dreamed of the smell of a baby and the joy of a growing family.
It may have ended fairly quickly, but I can tell you that I’m not handling it very well. I cry at any given thought of this loss. But I do know that everything happens for a reason. But it doesn’t make this pain any more bearable. I’m allowing myself to grieve. Not only do I have the emotional pain, but also the physical pain of passing the baby on my own. It’s awful. The amount of blood is sickening. The cramping is horrible. There are no words for this feeling. None! No words to express my pain both physically and emotionally. I beg God to give me the strength to get through this. I beg God to take this burden and to heal me from my anger towards him for taking this away from me. I understand that he took it for a reason. And that he wouldn’t put me through something that I wouldn’t be able to handle. But I’m still mad.
And as a woman, I just want to cry. I just want to scream. I just want to curl up in bed and escape the world.
The pain is unexplainable. I can’t even stand up straight for long periods of time before I feel like my uterus is being ripped out from inside of me. The amount of blood is horrific. There really are no words. No words for my pain right now. The emotional pain just lingers. It makes it much worse having to go to the lab every few days to get my HCG checked in order to prove that I’m passing this baby and it’s not ectopic. How much torture do I need? When is enough, enough? I’m scared to death of this happening again.
So I’m done trying. I’m done planning. I’m done tracking. I’m done trying to play God’s sidekick. Why should I know or why should I get the opportunity to plan intercourse according to my fertile window? I don’t want anything to do with it anymore. As far as I’m concerned, sex is the farthest thing from my mind. And getting pregnant again scares the shit out of me after this. I won’t track my ovulation anymore. Nor will I pee on a stick twice a day to see either. If it happens, it will happen. But I’m not trying to make it happen anymore. I’m just not. I’m just so sad. And I need time to heal to physically and emotionally.
So when you take the time to ask us “when are you guys going to have another?” or “are you pregnant yet?” “Josie needs a brother or a sister”. Please be reminded of how much pain I have gone through and that these questions only hurt more.
Please don’t ask me when we’re going to have another baby. I am not God. Nor do I have the right to know things that he just doesn’t want us to know. If it happens, it will happen. I’m not rushing it this time. I’m not. I need time and prayers. I need time to heal. I am not ready to talk about this. This blog post, is all I want to say about it. There’s nothing left to talk about.