The good:
After a really, I mean really long and stressful, resentful, & at times miserable year, I finally managed to get pregnant. (insert heralds singing here).
Before then I thought, I'm young and healthy this should be easy. LIES. All lies. We tried absolutely everything in the book, but since it had not been a full year- of course, we were not able to get medical attention just yet. Well, when November rolled around I finally threw in the towel and called our doctor. He met with us and discussed our options. First things first, Kelsey you have a butt load of tests to do. Warren, you only have two tests. So I did my part of the tests and just like that everything came back normal. Warren got his blood work done, but then the holidays rolled around and there were work Christmas parties and last minute errands and travels, so his green lid special test was postponed. Off we go on our holidays when dear Aunt Flo is expected to arrive while I'm on a plane to Colorado. Nothing.
The whole Christmas week goes by, and nothing. I was mifted and assumed it was probably due to traveling and all the stress we had to endure during Christmas. But no way in H-E-L-L was I going to take a pregnancy test at my mother in law's house! So I waited it out until we got back. I tried to hold out until my period showed because I knew it would be negative, and honestly, I have seen so many negatives over the past year that I don't think I could take another one. After so many bathroom meltdowns and throwing negatives tests so hard against the wall that they shattered, to see yet another negative, another 'too bad so sad', stark white test... I just could not handle it.
I finally cracked once I told myself it would be ok, and that I'd survive another negative. To my utter surprise, two lines showed up almost instantly. I about fell off the toilet.
My initial reaction was not jumping up and down with excitement. No, I freaked out, in the not-what-you-expect kind of way. I showed Warren, who then had to google what two lines on a pregnancy test meant (geez Warren, really?) He was more happy than I was. I said it was a lie and I would not subject myself to believing such filthy lies. So Warren grabbed some more reliable tests from the grocery store. And yup, for shiz up the spout.
It took about, oh- like a month for me to get comfortable with the idea- the first ultrasound went great & it's little heart was beating away. This was for real. Eventually, we were both equally excited and happy and fortunate to not have any sickness. Praise the heavens. Over the course of the first few weeks, each day that passed we grew more and more excited. We had some names jotted down, and had started to de-clutter the house in preparation for moving furniture out of the baby's room. My resentment towards other pregnant people started to lift. And I was able to ease my way back into the facebook world. People who were not as far as I was were starting to announce and I was getting really excited. My tummy was starting to grow and my clothes were so tight. It made it feel real. It was finally MY turn! By the end of the summer, I'd have a mini me or mini Warren. Visions of that little heart beat repeated in my head over and over.
The bad:
On the 18th of February I went in for a routine ultrasound for my 12 week appointment. The fun one, where you get to see the profile and they test for genetic abnormalities, like Down Syndrome. I was so excited to get a picture so that I could finally tell my boss and my co-workers now that the initial threat of miscarriage had passed. The minute the image popped up on the screen, I immediately shot the ultrasound tech a horrifying look. The image was supposed to be a fully developed but tiny baby shaped human with a head, a nose and some arms and legs. What I saw, was a weird shaped gummy bear... with no heartbeat. That little sputter was not sputtering anymore. I could tell the technician was struggling, she kept looking for things that weren't there, and asked me questions that seemed odd. She said that I should be about 11-12 weeks along, but what she was seeing was much, much less than where it should be. She did a secondary ultrasound that was internal just to be sure. But said nothing, and dismissed herself to get the doctor. He came back, and told us the bad news. There was no heartbeat and the baby had stopped progressing shortly after my last ultrasound at 7 weeks. I held it together until they left the room. Then we both lost it. We had worked so hard and did everything right, how could this be happening to us? What qualified those 16 year olds and horrible drug addicts who should have to have a license to have kids, to get pregnant & have kids- but not us?
It may be helpful to note that I'm not a huge of fan other people's kids. Especially when the parents try to torture me to get a good laugh. For example, going out to eat and sitting your 2 year old next to me at the table, while she chokes and coughs up bacon onto my plate and into my lap is not funny. Or when they don't wipe a snotty nose and then hand the kid to me & ask me to do it. Or insist I share a drink with a toddler (I have a little sister, a niece and a nephew- I KNOW what goes back into that straw) and the list goes on. I'm sorry if that seems wrong of me to be grossed out by that, but if it's not my kid I don't think it's right to do it on purpose so I can "get used to it". No, sorry. A lot of my older friends really made fun of me for this. And it really hurt. They often would tell me I would be a bad parent because I couldn't handle the snot on other kids, or that I shouldn't have kids at all if I couldn't deal with it. It got so bad, that I stopped wanting to spend time with them, and their kids. I'd be polite if we ran into them at the store or something, but I surely was not going to suggest any sort of event where I would be subject to more torture and bullying.
All of these thoughts and emotions came rushing to me when I saw those two pink lines. I was so scared of what those people would think that I told my family that I probably would not be announcing for quite sometime if at all, and I told them why. I just didn't think it was anyone else's business and I didn't want to hear the out-lash and more bullying I assumed I'd get. But when the doctor told me the baby had no heartbeat, again these people's voices went through my head. "Maybe they were right. Maybe this is just a sign that I am not adequate or cut out for this." "I should probably just give up, and adopt another cat". It seems pretty pity-party-ish of me, but it really got to me. Those people really got to me. I don't know if they know how hurtful and literal their words were and how their behavior really effected me.
A lot of other people, mostly work friends and church acquaintances would constantly ask us when were going to have kids. I think people think that this isn't really that intrusive of a question, but it really is. Especially to people who have been trying with no luck for a long time and were facing possible infertility treatments. I got teased a lot by people saying it wasn't very "Mormon of me" to not have kids yet.
It's just been such a rough year and a half.
After the bad news, I called my boss and told him from the ultrasound office. I took the rest of the day off, and saw my family doctor later that day. He confirmed what the ultrasound showed, and talked to me about my options. I was referred to the Early Fetal and Pregnancy Loss Center. Over the next couple days, I felt like I was walking around with a bunch of red arrows pointing at me. I felt like I had been slapped with a warning label that said MISCARRIAGE all the way across my face. I felt cheated on in life. I don't understand why this had to happen to us. I know it's very common, and I know so many people who also suffered this (not surprisingly, none of my previously mentioned 'friends'). I felt so bitter towards everyone who was pregnant, again. I just felt so sad. In retrospect, I think this is almost worse than when my mom died. I knew that her death was imminent and maybe that's the difference. I had no idea anything was wrong until that ultrasound.
After my doctor talked to me a little, I asked why I didn't have any physically signs. He said it was most likely that my hormones hadn't dropped low enough for my body to realize something was wrong. By that night, all my pregnancy symptoms had started to fade away.
I had an appointment with a nurse at the Pregnancy Loss Center on February 21. I thought that it was going to be a medicinal clinic, slathered with pamphlets, white walls and ugly chairs with an unfriendly receptionist and some male doctor who's never married or endured child/pregnancy loss. It was most definitely the exact opposite. It was warm, welcoming and full of happy people who were compassionate and caring, and most of them had experienced miscarriages before. I waited for the nurse in a little library. She took me into a room and asked how I was doing. I immediately started to cry. I didn't expect her to have such compassion, but she did. It was reassuring. She went over my options with me. She also went over the results from the ultrasound a little more. The baby had stopped developing at 7 weeks, just barely after the first ultrasound. I was devastated but, by the time I left her office I felt a billion times better. I guess knowing that it happened a long time ago and so early on just made it feel less like something I did and that since it wasn't recent it just didn't come as much of a shock. I made my decision to wait it out another week, and if still nothing had happened I would go in for a D and C. The medication just didn't appeal to me and I knew I wouldn't be able to handle the pain or the sickness, and probably end up in the ER.
I went back to work that Friday. Depressed. Numb almost. I Googled as much as I could about miscarriage and how to cope with it. But it just made me feel worse. I just wanted so much to move on. Not to forget, but just to move on. To heal. I was just so stunned. Everything hurt. It hurt to eat, to shower, to get dressed, to smile, to cry, to sleep.
A week had gone by, and still nothing had happened. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. Everyone just kept telling me it was MY choice of what to do. I couldn't handle the pressure. The waiting was killing me. I needed the closure. I needed to move on. I needed this to be over. I called the Pregnancy Loss Center and told them I needed to schedule the D&C. I had not progressed, and I needed to heal. I needed to shed a tiny ray of light into this abysmal, piece of crap situation. My D&C was set for March 5.
The pain I felt was immeasurable. It stirred so many emotions that I didn't realize I had the ability to feel. The sense of loss is so indescribable and so severe that it just takes over and leaves you feeling like you have no control.
I was nervous for the D&C. I was scared of the anesthesia. I have never had any kind before, other than at the dentist. When I arrived at the hospital, friendly nurses helped me get changed and to the right place. They were beyond comforting... but I knew I was just a number to them, fueling the ongoing statistic that I had now become. I knew that they would see someone else with the same problem tomorrow, and probably even later that day. I tried to just let go of everything and slip into my own Kelsey world where nothing could touch me.
Warren waited with me until I was in the OR waiting area with only a few more minutes to go. He went to get breakfast. I sat there, alone watching other patients go in... surgeons and gynecologists go back and forth. The nurse came and asked me some more questions... and apparently made a mistake and was trying to take me ahead of another woman having a D&C. The anesthesiologist screamed at her for her mistake. Good to know he will be putting a needle in me!!
They walked me into the OR... not what I had imagined at all. It was big, white, full of giant lights that looked like telescopes, 3 nurses, the gynecologist and the anesthesiologist, silver tools on trays laid out across tables. It looked like a high school chem lab. I hesitated for a good solid minute before undressing. They could tell I was debating my decision, but seemed ok with it. I jumped on the table and before I knew it I had 3 nurses above me, sticking me with monitors and stickers and wires... the anesthesiologist said something about a needle and then a cold feeling I would feel... and then I blacked out. I woke up in another room and cried a little. It was over.
It's now been three weeks since my surgery. The first 2 weeks were hard. I was emotional, and couldn't sleep. People every where sent me cards and letters, gifts even. It was so nice to know people care. So far, only 2 people I know have announced they're pregnant... both due after I was. I'm bitter, but forcing myself to ignore it. I'm feeling back to normal and despite the harsh world, I'm surviving and happy. I know that there are people with much bigger issues. I'm not ungrateful one bit. But the sadness and sense of loss you feel, the constant feeling of inadequacy is unimaginable to those who have not experienced such a thing. The only thing that really humbles me, is thinking of The Atonement and knowing that my future posterity are just spending time with their grandma, who wont get to meet them once they come to Earth. How can I be upset with that?
After a really, I mean really long and stressful, resentful, & at times miserable year, I finally managed to get pregnant. (insert heralds singing here).
Before then I thought, I'm young and healthy this should be easy. LIES. All lies. We tried absolutely everything in the book, but since it had not been a full year- of course, we were not able to get medical attention just yet. Well, when November rolled around I finally threw in the towel and called our doctor. He met with us and discussed our options. First things first, Kelsey you have a butt load of tests to do. Warren, you only have two tests. So I did my part of the tests and just like that everything came back normal. Warren got his blood work done, but then the holidays rolled around and there were work Christmas parties and last minute errands and travels, so his green lid special test was postponed. Off we go on our holidays when dear Aunt Flo is expected to arrive while I'm on a plane to Colorado. Nothing.
The whole Christmas week goes by, and nothing. I was mifted and assumed it was probably due to traveling and all the stress we had to endure during Christmas. But no way in H-E-L-L was I going to take a pregnancy test at my mother in law's house! So I waited it out until we got back. I tried to hold out until my period showed because I knew it would be negative, and honestly, I have seen so many negatives over the past year that I don't think I could take another one. After so many bathroom meltdowns and throwing negatives tests so hard against the wall that they shattered, to see yet another negative, another 'too bad so sad', stark white test... I just could not handle it.
I finally cracked once I told myself it would be ok, and that I'd survive another negative. To my utter surprise, two lines showed up almost instantly. I about fell off the toilet.
My initial reaction was not jumping up and down with excitement. No, I freaked out, in the not-what-you-expect kind of way. I showed Warren, who then had to google what two lines on a pregnancy test meant (geez Warren, really?) He was more happy than I was. I said it was a lie and I would not subject myself to believing such filthy lies. So Warren grabbed some more reliable tests from the grocery store. And yup, for shiz up the spout.
It took about, oh- like a month for me to get comfortable with the idea- the first ultrasound went great & it's little heart was beating away. This was for real. Eventually, we were both equally excited and happy and fortunate to not have any sickness. Praise the heavens. Over the course of the first few weeks, each day that passed we grew more and more excited. We had some names jotted down, and had started to de-clutter the house in preparation for moving furniture out of the baby's room. My resentment towards other pregnant people started to lift. And I was able to ease my way back into the facebook world. People who were not as far as I was were starting to announce and I was getting really excited. My tummy was starting to grow and my clothes were so tight. It made it feel real. It was finally MY turn! By the end of the summer, I'd have a mini me or mini Warren. Visions of that little heart beat repeated in my head over and over.
The bad:
On the 18th of February I went in for a routine ultrasound for my 12 week appointment. The fun one, where you get to see the profile and they test for genetic abnormalities, like Down Syndrome. I was so excited to get a picture so that I could finally tell my boss and my co-workers now that the initial threat of miscarriage had passed. The minute the image popped up on the screen, I immediately shot the ultrasound tech a horrifying look. The image was supposed to be a fully developed but tiny baby shaped human with a head, a nose and some arms and legs. What I saw, was a weird shaped gummy bear... with no heartbeat. That little sputter was not sputtering anymore. I could tell the technician was struggling, she kept looking for things that weren't there, and asked me questions that seemed odd. She said that I should be about 11-12 weeks along, but what she was seeing was much, much less than where it should be. She did a secondary ultrasound that was internal just to be sure. But said nothing, and dismissed herself to get the doctor. He came back, and told us the bad news. There was no heartbeat and the baby had stopped progressing shortly after my last ultrasound at 7 weeks. I held it together until they left the room. Then we both lost it. We had worked so hard and did everything right, how could this be happening to us? What qualified those 16 year olds and horrible drug addicts who should have to have a license to have kids, to get pregnant & have kids- but not us? It may be helpful to note that I'm not a huge of fan other people's kids. Especially when the parents try to torture me to get a good laugh. For example, going out to eat and sitting your 2 year old next to me at the table, while she chokes and coughs up bacon onto my plate and into my lap is not funny. Or when they don't wipe a snotty nose and then hand the kid to me & ask me to do it. Or insist I share a drink with a toddler (I have a little sister, a niece and a nephew- I KNOW what goes back into that straw) and the list goes on. I'm sorry if that seems wrong of me to be grossed out by that, but if it's not my kid I don't think it's right to do it on purpose so I can "get used to it". No, sorry. A lot of my older friends really made fun of me for this. And it really hurt. They often would tell me I would be a bad parent because I couldn't handle the snot on other kids, or that I shouldn't have kids at all if I couldn't deal with it. It got so bad, that I stopped wanting to spend time with them, and their kids. I'd be polite if we ran into them at the store or something, but I surely was not going to suggest any sort of event where I would be subject to more torture and bullying.
All of these thoughts and emotions came rushing to me when I saw those two pink lines. I was so scared of what those people would think that I told my family that I probably would not be announcing for quite sometime if at all, and I told them why. I just didn't think it was anyone else's business and I didn't want to hear the out-lash and more bullying I assumed I'd get. But when the doctor told me the baby had no heartbeat, again these people's voices went through my head. "Maybe they were right. Maybe this is just a sign that I am not adequate or cut out for this." "I should probably just give up, and adopt another cat". It seems pretty pity-party-ish of me, but it really got to me. Those people really got to me. I don't know if they know how hurtful and literal their words were and how their behavior really effected me.
A lot of other people, mostly work friends and church acquaintances would constantly ask us when were going to have kids. I think people think that this isn't really that intrusive of a question, but it really is. Especially to people who have been trying with no luck for a long time and were facing possible infertility treatments. I got teased a lot by people saying it wasn't very "Mormon of me" to not have kids yet.
It's just been such a rough year and a half.
After the bad news, I called my boss and told him from the ultrasound office. I took the rest of the day off, and saw my family doctor later that day. He confirmed what the ultrasound showed, and talked to me about my options. I was referred to the Early Fetal and Pregnancy Loss Center. Over the next couple days, I felt like I was walking around with a bunch of red arrows pointing at me. I felt like I had been slapped with a warning label that said MISCARRIAGE all the way across my face. I felt cheated on in life. I don't understand why this had to happen to us. I know it's very common, and I know so many people who also suffered this (not surprisingly, none of my previously mentioned 'friends'). I felt so bitter towards everyone who was pregnant, again. I just felt so sad. In retrospect, I think this is almost worse than when my mom died. I knew that her death was imminent and maybe that's the difference. I had no idea anything was wrong until that ultrasound.After my doctor talked to me a little, I asked why I didn't have any physically signs. He said it was most likely that my hormones hadn't dropped low enough for my body to realize something was wrong. By that night, all my pregnancy symptoms had started to fade away.
I had an appointment with a nurse at the Pregnancy Loss Center on February 21. I thought that it was going to be a medicinal clinic, slathered with pamphlets, white walls and ugly chairs with an unfriendly receptionist and some male doctor who's never married or endured child/pregnancy loss. It was most definitely the exact opposite. It was warm, welcoming and full of happy people who were compassionate and caring, and most of them had experienced miscarriages before. I waited for the nurse in a little library. She took me into a room and asked how I was doing. I immediately started to cry. I didn't expect her to have such compassion, but she did. It was reassuring. She went over my options with me. She also went over the results from the ultrasound a little more. The baby had stopped developing at 7 weeks, just barely after the first ultrasound. I was devastated but, by the time I left her office I felt a billion times better. I guess knowing that it happened a long time ago and so early on just made it feel less like something I did and that since it wasn't recent it just didn't come as much of a shock. I made my decision to wait it out another week, and if still nothing had happened I would go in for a D and C. The medication just didn't appeal to me and I knew I wouldn't be able to handle the pain or the sickness, and probably end up in the ER.
I went back to work that Friday. Depressed. Numb almost. I Googled as much as I could about miscarriage and how to cope with it. But it just made me feel worse. I just wanted so much to move on. Not to forget, but just to move on. To heal. I was just so stunned. Everything hurt. It hurt to eat, to shower, to get dressed, to smile, to cry, to sleep.
A week had gone by, and still nothing had happened. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. Everyone just kept telling me it was MY choice of what to do. I couldn't handle the pressure. The waiting was killing me. I needed the closure. I needed to move on. I needed this to be over. I called the Pregnancy Loss Center and told them I needed to schedule the D&C. I had not progressed, and I needed to heal. I needed to shed a tiny ray of light into this abysmal, piece of crap situation. My D&C was set for March 5.
The pain I felt was immeasurable. It stirred so many emotions that I didn't realize I had the ability to feel. The sense of loss is so indescribable and so severe that it just takes over and leaves you feeling like you have no control.
I was nervous for the D&C. I was scared of the anesthesia. I have never had any kind before, other than at the dentist. When I arrived at the hospital, friendly nurses helped me get changed and to the right place. They were beyond comforting... but I knew I was just a number to them, fueling the ongoing statistic that I had now become. I knew that they would see someone else with the same problem tomorrow, and probably even later that day. I tried to just let go of everything and slip into my own Kelsey world where nothing could touch me.
Warren waited with me until I was in the OR waiting area with only a few more minutes to go. He went to get breakfast. I sat there, alone watching other patients go in... surgeons and gynecologists go back and forth. The nurse came and asked me some more questions... and apparently made a mistake and was trying to take me ahead of another woman having a D&C. The anesthesiologist screamed at her for her mistake. Good to know he will be putting a needle in me!!
They walked me into the OR... not what I had imagined at all. It was big, white, full of giant lights that looked like telescopes, 3 nurses, the gynecologist and the anesthesiologist, silver tools on trays laid out across tables. It looked like a high school chem lab. I hesitated for a good solid minute before undressing. They could tell I was debating my decision, but seemed ok with it. I jumped on the table and before I knew it I had 3 nurses above me, sticking me with monitors and stickers and wires... the anesthesiologist said something about a needle and then a cold feeling I would feel... and then I blacked out. I woke up in another room and cried a little. It was over.
It's now been three weeks since my surgery. The first 2 weeks were hard. I was emotional, and couldn't sleep. People every where sent me cards and letters, gifts even. It was so nice to know people care. So far, only 2 people I know have announced they're pregnant... both due after I was. I'm bitter, but forcing myself to ignore it. I'm feeling back to normal and despite the harsh world, I'm surviving and happy. I know that there are people with much bigger issues. I'm not ungrateful one bit. But the sadness and sense of loss you feel, the constant feeling of inadequacy is unimaginable to those who have not experienced such a thing. The only thing that really humbles me, is thinking of The Atonement and knowing that my future posterity are just spending time with their grandma, who wont get to meet them once they come to Earth. How can I be upset with that?
7 comments:
I'm so, so sorry Kelsey. I know there are no words I could give you that haven't already been said but just know that you are loved and we will be praying for you! Stay strong girl!
Oh Kelsey, I'm so sorry for your loss! :( Infertility totally sucks. I can only imagine what you've been going through. I know you'll be a great mom.
My heart is just broken for you! I am so sorry. I have never had a miscarriage but it took us a year and a half to get pregnant with Brock I remember the hate towards the "mom club" I hated them. I think I am so much nicer to people now because I had such a hard time. It broke my heart when people would ask me when I was going to have kids. It's seriously the hardest thing. I have been praying for you. I have loved having you as a friend! One day I will make it to Canada to see you :) and I won't make you hold/feed/wipe buggers (so so gross) my kids unless you want too. ;)
My heart is breaking for you!! :( I am so sorry for all that you've been through this past year. Thinking and praying for you. Wish there was more I could do.
Oh Kelsey - I want you to know I've been praying for you, even before this most recent miscarriage and D&C. After you told me about the time before I have been praying for you. Now I've redoubled my efforts. I know it's just one more prayer heavenward and it might seem like nothing, but in my most desperate times I have been comforted by someone simply saying "I'm praying for you."
Our situations are COMPLETELY different. I can't even pretend to know the pain you are feeling. But, I still cried for you and I cried while reading this.
My life has been so dark the last couple of months and sometimes I wasn't sure I would make it out. Some days I STILL doubt and wonder if it is all worth it.
On my very worst days it seems like a burden to even make it to the next minute. I know you must feel like that sometimes. Perhaps ALL the time. So, I can't say I know what you are feeling, but I do know pain.
As a side note - I have ALWAYS enjoyed your honesty in regards to kids. :) You are ONE OF A KIND Kelsey. I think most of us feel the same about other people's kids to a certain extent, we are just not as honest about it. I LOVE my own children with a fierce desperate emotion that's hard to explain, but as much as I LIKE other people's kids... I don't love their germs and snot. :)
You will make a wonderful mother - don't you dare let anyone make you believe otherwise. I don't know when it will happen and the waiting might be so painful that you lose your breath, but it will work out.
A friend shared this scripture with me recently, I want to share it with you.
Romans 8:18 - "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us."
I'll be thinking of you and praying.
Shutting up now.
I've thought a lot about you since you posted your after d+c pic. I'm so sorry for your loss, and I'm grieving with you. Love you lots.
Just thought I'd drop a note and say that I'm still thinking of you. I hope that time has brought a small amount of peace. You're awesome! I'll pray for you.
Post a Comment