written this post several times. Last time I started it, it went totally
different. The first time I wrote it,
again was different.
The last time I sat down to write this post was May 6th. Then it was a happy post about something that
happened that I didn’t think was possible.
That very day, minutes after finishing the post, that happiness died,
along with a little part of me.
I’ll start from the beginning, where I was originally going
to start this post.
I’ve always known I was going to have trouble getting
pregnant. I always believed that I
wouldn’t be able to have children. I
tried to protect myself, saying that I didn’t like them. Avoiding them at all costs.
Then my family members started popping them out. So I kind of had to deal with them some. I felt lucky that I don’t live near
them. I know that sounds weird, but it’s
another way to protect myself from the buried pain of believing that I will never
be able to have my own.
Some times it’s unbearable to listen to one or the other
family member complain about their kids.
Just shut the fuck up and be grateful that you have had to put hardly
any thought into having them. My sister
in law had to put some thought into it, I know she struggled some, but she’s
been able to produce two babies that have gone on to be healthy.
So I’ve tried to burry this pain for a while. But after getting off birth control, getting
married, and “not-not-trying” for three years, I started to realize that this
really might not happen.
I’ve been tracking my cycle for about three years now. I know when I ovulate. I can feel it. I’ve had a lot of blood work done this year. Everything so far says I’m fine. The doctor can’t find any reason that I can’t
have a baby (we’re looking for a new doctor).
In February, I went to the doctor and she prescribed
Clomid. It’s supposed to make you
ovulate better? I took Clomid for three
months and nothing.
And then, strangely, after the Clomid had not worked for
three months, my April cycle, I was pregnant.
Before I took the test to find out, I had felt like a
bottomless pit. I could eat and eat and
not feel full. I also felt bad at night
and got real hot.
When I read the test results, I cried a little. I almost felt like it was a cruel joke,
little did I know, it was. It’s just
never seemed possible for me. Ed freaked
out and then eventually was really happy (I think).
We told our immediate family so maybe they would quit asking
when we were going to have kids. That’s
painful too. When I know it’s hard to
get pregnant, and they keep asking.
May 6th rolled around and all was well. I had felt like shit the day before. I chalked it up to being really hungry,
because when I ate I felt better.
But then the spotting happened. And I know some women spot while
pregnant. My sister did. My mom did.
But I just knew.
I had to do a lot more blood work to confirm what I already
knew: I had a miscarriage.
The first blood test proved (even though the pee test told
me) that I had been pregnant. The second
blood test 100% proved that I had miscarried.
Next, I did what I always do when I don’t know what to
do. I got online and started researching
miscarriage, why it happens, how to deal.
I didn’t find anything comforting.
I did find a lot of what the nurses and doctor had told me. “Be happy that you know you can get
pregnant.” Wtf. Bitches.
And avoided actually talking to people. It just hurts too much, still does.
I eventually told the lady I work for what had
happened. I feel like, right now, she’s
the only one I can really talk to about this stuff because she’s actually been
through it. She had two miscarriages
before having her sweet baby boy. She
has real suggestions and doesn’t bullshit or make it cushy. She knows how hard this is.
She gave me a book to read that helped her. Not with dealing, but with fertility in
general. I’ve read the book and want to
start trying some of the suggestions. I
find a lot of what the book says and suggestions, fits with the problems I have
always had. Like why I’m tired all the
time.
Putting my energy into this book and just researching things
that might help is what’s keeping me going right now.
I know a lot of people have dealt with worse in their baby
making processes. I know friends who
have lost their babies, miscarried, and I know many who struggle with the same
things. Knowing this, however, does not
make the process any easier. It doesn’t
make anything easier.
