Just a warning....this post contains body parts, fluids, medical terminology and situations involving infertility testing and procedures. It also involves me discussing our miscarriage. I know pretty much only friends and family will even look at this blog but just in case you don't want to read about it all....you've been warned.
I'll say frankly that we weren't exactly prepared for the struggles we've faced trying to grow our family. With rose colored glasses, I thought we'd get married, get pregnant on our honeymoon, and have a bouncing baby a few months later. I'm not saying it doesn't happen that way, but that's not the way it happened for us. Far from it in fact.
The first setback we faced was simply not getting pregnant. After months of trying with no results, after months of watching pregnancy tests turn negative, and months of disappointment, I decided to go see my OB GYN to discuss our testing options. Thankfully, my doctor took my concerns seriously and ordered some tests.
The second setback was discovering that while Matt's swimmers were strong, abundant, and fast, my gals were not making an appearance consistently despite the regularity of Aunt Flo's visits. I know I'm disguising all of these terms a bit but it just makes me giggle a bit to type 'sperm', 'ovulate', and 'menstruate'. Ok. I'll be serious. These next parts are decidedly serious.
The third, fourth, and fifth setback were discovered by ultrasound. The scan revealed that my left ovary had cysts, that there was no visible activity in the right ovary, and that I had a fibroid in my uterus. The cysts weren't quite big enough to be a concern or to diagnose me with PCOS (
polycystic ovary syndrome), but the doctors thought it could very well be that. The inactivity in my right ovary may have meant that it wasn't working properly or it may have meant nothing. The doctors just weren't sure. The fibroid wasn't very big nor was it in a location that typically interferes with implantation of a fertilized egg, but it was there. Who knows why?
The sixth setback was discovered by HSG (
hysterosalpingogram). This fairly invasive test revealed that the fallopian tube leading to my left ovary was somehow blocked right where it joined my uterus. The tube to my right ovary was completely unobstructed but, if you'll remember from above, we weren't sure the right ovary was working. While the left ovary had cysts, it did appear to be producing a mature egg according to my ultrasound so it was pretty devastating to learn that the pathway from that ovary to my uterus was blocked. The pain I experienced both during and after was horrendous. The pain in my heart was also devastating. I wasn't sure if the doctors would want to correct the blocked tube with surgery or if we'd have to do IVF (
In Vitro Fertilization). I was pretty scared and I wasn't sure what our future would look like.
After all these tests and procedures (which took several months by the way) the doctors didn't have a lot to go on. They weren't sure I had PCOS. They weren't sure if my right ovary was working. They weren't sure why my left tube was blocked or why my left ovary was producing cysts. They weren't sure why I wasn't ovulating every month.
The next step OB GYNs typically take with infertility treatment and testing is to try
Clomid. Some people have a reaction to this drug but it didn't seem to bother me. I never imagined it would work the first time, but it did! We were overjoyed to discover we were pregnant! I think Matt had gone fishing the day that I tested and then played hockey that night. He came home with his eyes streaming from sunscreen sweating into his eyes as he played. The poor thing was so pitiful that I sent him straight to the shower even though I was barely able to contain my excitement. When he finally came downstairs, all I had to say was 'guess what' and he knew. He picked me up and whirled me around and we just held each other, overwhelmed with joy and happiness. After so many months, tests, and procedures, we were finally seeing our dreams come true.
I called my doctor and scheduled an appointment for an
hCG test about 8 days after my missed period. They took a little blood and told me to come back in two days later. No big deal. I went back, they took a little blood, and then the next day I got a call. My first test had come back pretty low and the results didn't quite double like they should have. They asked me to come back the next day for another test. That's when I turned to doctor internet and learned what a low hCG that wasn't doubling could mean: ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage. We were relieved when the next test and the test after that showed that my counts were doubling. They scheduled me for an early ultrasound to rule out ectopic pregnancy. Thankfully, our baby was growing inside my uterus and not ectopic, but unfortunately I was measuring a week smaller than I should have been. I was told it could have been a late ovulation and implantation due to taking Clomid that caused the delay so I clung to the hope that they were right.
We were scheduled for another scan about a week later which showed a week's worth of growth but still no heartbeat. We were scheduled for another scan two weeks later but sadly we never made it to that appointment.
About two days before our scheduled appointment, I started spotting. My heart dropped and I immediately said 'honey, we have to go to the ER'. The blood was brown and there was just a little bit there when I wiped so it could have just been implantation blood. However, I was so worried that with the initial low hCG, and then measuring small, that the spotting was a sign of miscarriage. I called my doctor who recommended we go to the hospital to be examined. We drove to the nearest hospital and they got me in right away.
The scan revealed that even though our baby should have been measuring 8 weeks (actually 10 weeks from my last period but we were measuring going by our last ultrasound), it was only measuring 5 and did not have a heartbeat. Our baby had died.
One of the hardest things to hear that night was the doctor explaining what the results meant and calling our baby a 'product of conception' instead of a 'baby'. Maybe medically it wasn't more than an embryo, but to us it was our precious baby who we already loved so much. My grandmother helped me understand that better by later explaining that the doctors have to share tragic news almost every day and they often use terms like that to protect themselves. I get it. But at the time, I thought it was the most heartless thing he could have said. The hardest thing to hear was that our baby had died and that my body was beginning to miscarry.
The choices that were presented to me were to either let my body miscarry naturally or have a
D&C. For me it was a quick decision. I didn't want to go through labor and have to see the remains of our baby come out me, so we scheduled the D&C for a few days later. The waiting was torture. Each day was filled with more bleeding and cramping as my body continued to miscarry. I never went into labor but the cramping did get pretty intense. The sorrow I felt was even more debilitating. Thankfully my work was very understanding about what was going on and let me take time off to have the surgery and grieve. Matt stayed home with me and he held me every time the tears overwhelmed me. It was a very bittersweet time for us because our love for each other was stronger than ever but our hearts were broken.
My family was so supportive. My dad was already planning a visit that weekend to go to my brother's fishing tournament, but he stayed with us and just spending time with him was comforting. My mom came up that weekend as well and she helped to take care of me and our house while I was incapacitated.
The surgery went as well as could be expected. My doctor was very compassionate, caring, and informative without being insensitive. All the hospital staff members who took care of me were so helpful and kind. The anesthesiologist made sure that I gently fell asleep and then gently woke when the surgery was done. Apparently I talked a lot in my sleep and I was very sad. My doctor never told me or Matt what I said but I've always wondered.
The pain after the surgery was unexpected. I ended up going to the ER because I was in so much pain. It turned out to just be bruising and not a hemorrhage but it was still incredibly painful. I was prescribed some heavy duty pain meds and lots of rest. I was able to ween off the heavy stuff and switch back to over-the-counter meds within a couple of days. I was a bit more prepared for all the bleeding because my doctor told me to expect it. It was extremely heavy and lasted several days but it did eventually stop.
Even though my body healed pretty quickly, my mind and soul needed quite a bit of help. We started going to church regularly which has honestly been wonderful. We've really developed a connection with our church that we've been missing since we moved north. We took a trip to Mexico as soon as I was physically able and cleared by my doctor. It was very reminiscent of our honeymoon and much needed time together as a couple.
The magic of our trip didn't last as long as we hoped and getting through each day was becoming harder and harder for me. Knowing how important my mental health would be when we decided to try again, I started taking medicine for depression and seeing a counselor. The medicine didn't last long because I didn't want to be taking it when we tried again, but I've kept up with counseling every couple of weeks and I feel it's really helped. I'm finally at the point where I can talk about what happened without reliving the emotions. That was a huge step for me.
We decided to have our baby's remains sent off for additional testing. We wanted to know if there were any genetic abnormalities or other issues. The testing revealed no abnormalities but they were able to determine that we had a little boy. It was such a surprise to find that out because for the entire pregnancy I was sure we were having a girl. We named him Alexander Gabriel. We thought it was a strong name for a baby in heaven. Matt has since nicknamed him 'Sasha' like some of the pro hockey Alexanders go by.
We are so thankful that Sasha was in our lives, even for just a little while. It's amazing how much you can love someone without ever knowing them. We keep a picture of our little jelly bean and light candles for him at our church. We both got a lot of comfort in reading the book Heaven is for Real. In the book, the little boy has a serious illness. While he's sick in the hospital, he visits Heaven and one of the people he meets is his other sister, the one he didn't know he had. When he asked his parents about her later, the readers find out that the parents had miscarried years before. I truly believe that our baby is in Heaven and that we will be reunited with him again someday.
I'll never forget our little Sasha. I hope he knows how loved he is every day even though we can't be with him yet.
I hope that our little story, if it ever goes public or even just within our family, helps other women feel comfortable about talking about their own pregnancy and miscarriage experiences. It's so common in our society to not talk about infertility and miscarriage but I think it's important for the soul to not keep these things bottled up inside.
Before I end this post, I also just want to say again how thankful we
are for the support of our family, friends, and church community. There
was such an outreach of love and sharing of souls. Your prayers and
continued support are so appreciated!
Thank you for letting me share our story!
xo
