Square One

The last couple of months, I’ve refrained from writing too much.  Not that I wrote all the time, but I certainly did so more than once a month.  For me, it was simply an act of self-preservation.  Everyone does what they have to do to survive and for me that has always been finding the escape route.  Also, I tried not to add negativity to those who already struggle and not remind those of who have escaped the trenches of where they had been.

This is the hard part.  This is the part that kills me.

I knew, for a very short time, what it was like to escape those trenches.  However, I do not know this feeling any longer.

A few short weeks ago, I got my first ever positive pregnancy test.  Out of nowhere.  100% natural conception.  Of course I didn’t believe it, because, hey this is me we are talking about–the poster child for unexplained infertility.

The beta test confirmed the pregnancy test.  The 6 week ultrasound confirmed it.  My body confirmed it.

Sadly, the 8 week ultrasound did not.  My baby measured at 7 weeks, 4 days instead of 8 weeks, 2 days. There was no heartbeat.

There’s not much left for me to do.  My D & C is tomorrow morning, that is if I can manage to have a conversation with the receptionist without falling apart on the phone like I did earlier.   I’m not really sure why I’m having it done. My baby is gone; I know that.  He/she isn’t going to come back.   Mr. RE tried to offer some unfeeling, scientific, medical reason for all of this, but I didn’t hear a word he said.   Something about cell division.  Something about chromosomes.  Who knows? I guess this procedure is supposed to give us answers about what went wrong.  It really doesn’t matter because I have learned there are no answers or at least any that benefit me in any shape or form.

So there we have it.   My life.  The one that I thought couldn’t get worse, the one that I thought was getting better.  Obviously, this was originally supposed to be a post that announced good news, but once again I can only bring the bad.

I always thought that the worst thing that could happen to a woman would be what had happened to me:  waiting two and a half or more years to even create a baby.  Now I know this isn’t true.  The worst thing is waiting two and a half years to create a baby and then having that dream taken away as soon as it comes to be.

I don’t know if I’ll ever conceive again and actually I think I would be afraid to.  I proceeded through this with cautious optimism but now I can only move ahead with fear.  I wanted to be happy for this pregnancy, short-lived as it was, but I always suspected the worst in the back of my mind.  As much as I still want a child, I can’t see myself moving forward in any situation that has the potential to rip my heart into shreds.

So, I don’t know what kind of writer this will make me nor do I know what kind of supporter this will make me.  I am happy for all of your good news, even if I can’t show it and I also grieve with those who grieve.  The rest is—well, I just don’t know. I think I just need to self-preserve.


24 responses to this post.

  1. I am so, so sorry. There’s just nothing else to say. I’m sorry.


  2. Saying sorry never seems right, so I won’t say it. I’m so sad inside for you. I want to give you a big hug and sit in silence with you.


  3. Oh wow. I don’t even know what to say except that my heart aches for you and I am so, so sorry. I do know what it is like to lose a baby that you want so much and I feel for you. Deeply. The pain will ease over time (maybe a lot of time), but I don’t know that the fear will ever go away. Just be gentle with yourself in the days and weeks ahead. Sending you my love today! ~ hugs ~


  4. Oh shit. I’m so sorry. This is the last thing I wanted to read from you. When I read that you got pregnant and up to 6 weeks everything was normal, I was so Ecstatic for you!! I thought, “finally!” I’m so so so so sorry for your loss. It’s so hard and the ultimate tease when you’ve wanted that BFP for so long. Just know that you are not alone and my heart, though it breaks for you, is with you. I’m here if you ever need anything. And I’m sending big hugs your way!


  5. Sonofabitch. This shit just isn’t fair. (sorry, I tend to swear when I get angry)


  6. Damn. My heart hurts for your lady. It’s just so effing unfair.


  7. Thinking of you.


  8. I’m really sorry. I’m sad for you.


  9. Oh my. I am SO sorry and so sad that this is happening to you! There are no words. My heart is with you and I will continue to keep you in my prayers. Sending you huge hugs.


  10. I am so sorry to hear this. I will keep you in my thoughts.


  11. Posted by Psycholovista on September 26, 2012 at 9:07 pm

    My heart is aching with you. I am so deeply sorry for your loss….I imagine words can’t really do your pain any justice so I appreciate your sharing, despite the limitations of our language to capture these deep, life-changing, emotional experiences.


  12. I’m so sorry. Whatever you need to express here–pain, sadness, longing, anger–we’re all here to support you. Holding you in my heart.


  13. I am so, so sorry. I wish there was something I could do or say to make it better. You are in my thoughts.


    • Posted by Tami on September 27, 2012 at 9:36 am

      Ive come by way of Amanda’s blog. I too have unexplained infertility and have been at this for 2 years. I had my 2nd miscarriage recently and am just begining to recover. I sat with a lot of pain and anger for a long time. Its an ugly process and Im just so sorry you have to experience this. Grief is not linear but it does get better with time. You and you baby are in my heart.


  14. I am so sorry. It is so unfair.


  15. I know what this feels like when you have tried for so long and then it gets taken away. The pain is unbearable. Sending you love and hugs and also proof in me that the next one can work x


  16. I’m so sorry xox


  17. I am keeping you and your husband in my prayers. You do what you gotta do to keep going and we will be here for you no matter what. I’m so very sorry this has happened to you…


  18. Coming over from Amanda’s blog to let you know how sorry I am for your loss. To lose a pregnancy is devastating, especially one that is so wanted and for which you have been waiting so long, too long. I will be thinking of you and wishing you peace.


  19. Very sorry to hear this. It sounds like your September was just as crappy as mine. May your heart start to heal and your hope return.


  20. Hey you, I’m glad we “found” each other, let’s stay connected and be a support for one another.

    I know you wanted this baby very, very much and for a very, very long time. And despite so many odds, you have been fighting for and loving the child you want for so long. That is what a true mother does, so in my mind, you are and always will be mother, and a very good one at that.

    Now it’s just a matter of getting that baby in your arms safely.

    Given the emotional churn of an m/c and all the time you’ve put in, I was wondering if you were thinking of when/if you’d like to try again with IVF (they say a lost pregnancy does increase fertility) or adoption or another option? I just know that for me, it solidified the IVF route, but it drastically changed my level of comfort with getting pregnant again.

    I think I will be a nervous wreck if/when it does happen again and that whole idea of the joyful pregnant woman won’t be me.

    As for your blog, if you write, I’ll keep coming.

    Stay strong, B


    • I really can’t tell you how much your healing words mean to me. They meant so much that I had to take a day just to process them. Thank you so much. Let’s definitely stay in touch. I’m so glad you’ll keep coming to the blog as on several occasions I’ve thought of just deleting the whole thing for various reasons. As for IVF, I’ve thought some about it but given all the emotional turmoil I’ve been through, I might just pursue it. Not because I’m not patient to wait for a natural conception to occur, but because I am just emotionally spent. Thanks again! Your words truly made a difference.


      • Posted by expecting to be expecting on October 10, 2012 at 1:32 am

        I’m so glad you’re reconsidering your decision of deleting your blog, it’s so good and I get so much from it and I’m sure others do, too.

        I totally can relate about not being ready to pursue IVF. I would be lying if I said it is “freeing”. I feel foolish admitting this now, but I think everyone who starts with IVF thinks it, but, I really thought/hoped I’d be ‘that girl’ the one who got pregnant right off the bat.

        I think anyone doing IVF secretly hopes she’ll be that girl– hell, it’s easier than not.

        I feel like going through IVF is a crash course in managing yourself. All of your shit, all the stuff you push down and ignore, comes to the surface. For me it’s because of the waiting and the up and down, I can’t say what it is for other people but it does bring out your baggage.

        I didn’t know that going in, and I don’t think I would have cared, but at the same time, I wish someone could have told me that if I did go the IVF route that the waiting and the constant hoping would be really trying.

        I’m looking forward to your next post and hope you’re feeling better.

        My thoughts and prayers to you. Much love, B

  21. I am so sorry for your loss… ;( I bought a rise Busch the day our baby was suppose to be due. It’s a great reminder of the love that will always be there


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