I haven’t written in forever because I have been so consumed with College life and life in general but given the last few months, I decided it is time to start writing again. On April 28 I found out that I was pregnant. My mom flew in that day and it was such a happy time. My husband had just left for a training exercise and I was lucky enough to be able to share the news with him that day. It was a normal start of my pregnancy. I craved salt and vinegar chips, which I hate but goodness did I want them! And fruit smoothies. I had to have at least one every morning. My moms visit went well. We hiked Diamond Head, enjoyed delicious foods, did a submarine tour and overall enjoyed one another’s company. Mom left the following Saturday and on Sunday, I shared my news with some of my close girl friends. The happiness in their faces was priceless. A happy time it was.
On May 14 I started spotting. It was very light and only happened once. I worked out that day so I thought maybe I just overdid it. On Thursday the same thing happened twice. I did yoga that morning. Of course I started reading EVERYTHING on the internet and was leaning toward everything being okay. On Friday I went to a walk in clinic run by the Army and they were not promising much. My HCG was at the levels of an early 5 week pregnancy. I was on the cusp of 7 weeks. It was a 50/50 chance of a spontaneous abortion. Otherwise known as a miscarriage. The bleeding I thought had stopped.
On Saturday I was happy again, I felt like I had just hit a bump and needed to be a little less active. At 730 PM things took a turn. I went to the ER with my great mate, Emily. My husband wasn’t reachable and I was freaking out. Six hours later I learned that my HCG had only increased by around 100 but they did a transvaginal ultrasound. The pregnancy was where it was supposed to see but nothing was confirmed inside the sac. My cervix was closed and though I was bleeding abnormally, hope was given. Again, they were leaning toward a threatened miscarriage but I had to wait until Monday to do blood work again.
On Monday, my friend Amy took me to the clinic. My HCG had dropped from over 1000 Saturday to 450 on Monday. It was becoming real. The baby that I wanted so badly was slipping away. My baby girl (Yes, girl because we are all girls until we’re not!) was becoming a little angel. At this point I was “ok”. I had been up and down this roller coaster all weekend and I was kind of expecting the worst. The Doctor told me that he thought it was best that I have the miscarriage at home naturally because it was so early. That was my plan.
Amy wanted to help me get my mind off of everything going on. She suggested we go to the beach. I am a firm believer in the quote, “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the ocean.” I didn’t feel like working out, I had cried so much. The beach was the only thing to calm me.
I passed two large clots. The first I thought was it. After the beach I passed the second. It was she. My little Angel Baby. I didn’t start to grieve the way I thought I was supposed to. My husband came home for Emergency Leave and things just seemed normal. On May 27, we went back to the Clinic and my HCG had dropped to 9. It finally hit me. I cried for what seemed like forever and when I got home, I curled up into a ball in my husband’s arms and just let it all out. I cried harder than I ever had.
It’s almost been a month. I don’t feel like I handled this like a normal person should but I know that this isn’t the end for us. I’ve questioned God, I’ve beat myself up and I have debated on whether or not I should try sooner rather than later. God knew that our baby girl wasn’t destined to be on this Earth. I am a good person. I eat right. I exercise. I took my prenatal vitamins. This wasn’t my fault. We were told we could try again after one cycle but some doctors recommend waiting at least three months and up to a year. I’m just going to let it happen.
Our Rainbow baby will come and our Angel Baby will watch over him or her. 🙂