Back in this post, I talked about having a rough couple weeks. Today, I will share with you why those weeks were rough.
On August 10th, we found out that we were expecting baby #3. We were excited! We shared our news with our family and friends at a labor day party that we held at our house on September 2nd.
On September 4th at 7 weeks pregnant, I had my first appointment. My doctor confirmed I was pregnant-- which was good since we just shared the news. At that appointment I requested an early ultrasound. Why? At that time I just wanted one...but looking back, I think I sensed something was wrong. But my doctor agreed to let me have an ultrasound...a perk to your doctor being a family friend.
On September 11th I had my ultrasound. I was crazy nervous. After waiting for the ultrasound tech to take measurements of everything, she turned to me and said that my baby was measuring 6 weeks...I should have been 8. She had a hard time finding the heartbeat but there was a slow heartbeat. However, that didn't set my mind at ease. I new when I ovulated. I took my temp every morning for the previous 3 months before getting pregnant and during the month we got pregnant. I charted everything. So I knew in my heart that things were not good. But my doctor came in and said we had a heartbeat and not to worry but that we could do another ultrasound in two weeks to ease my mind.
Of course, I wanted that ultrasound!
Ugh, those were a rough two weeks. I wanted to believe my doctor but I believed my charting more. It didn't make sense that my baby was measuring only 6 weeks...that would have meant that when I got my positive pregnancy test, I wasn't pregnant yet. I just didn't see how that could be possible.
I googled...which is never really a good idea. But I held on to one small piece of info that I found online...that women with a tilted uterus (which I had) can measure small on an ultrasound because the tech has a hard time getting measurements.
The two weeks passed by incredibly slow and seemed to drag on, even though we went on our anniversary trip to Niagara Falls. The entire time I had the fear of miscarrying. But I didn't, so that little bit of hope I was holding on to grew bigger...because maybe, just maybe it was right. Maybe the tech didn't get good measurements and my baby if fine.
I had my second ultrasound on September 25th. I should have been 10 weeks along. At that ultrasound there was no baby. Only a small part of the sac.
Our baby was gone.
I had what they refer to as a missed miscarriage.
I had a d&c the following day.
I didn't cry. I think I had enough time time to prepare myself for the news I knew I was going to hear. Was I sad, though? Incredibly. I still am. I should be almost 13 weeks. It really makes it hard when I hear about people who are pregnant and close to when I was due. I wish it were still me counting down to meeting our new baby. But in my heart I know that things happen for a reason. I have accepted the fact that our baby is no longer with us.
Now we wait. We wait for my body to re-regulate itself. 2 months is what my doctor said. Then we try again. I am okay. I can only hope that we are able to hold our next baby in our arms.
So on this day, Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day, I remember our baby that we will never hold in our arms. A sibling that our children will never meet.
I loved you even though I never met you! Please know I think about you often!
And to those who know this day all too well, I send my love and a big virtual HUG to each and every one of you.