Mama-hood on Pause

Our daughter turned three months yesterday, which is so hard to believe. Being a mother is more than I ever imagined it would be. Before Z joined the world, I felt as though a piece of me were missing; as though there were some hole in my soul. Since her birth, that hole is no more - in fact, I feel fuller than I ever have in my entire life. 

Last February, I found out we were expecting. I was over the moon ecstatic about this new life that was forming inside of me. I had a bit of morning sickness and I didn't feel quite right, but chalked that up to typical early pregnancy (I'd never been pregnant before!). Then one morning at work, just a little after 8am, I was taking my potty break (I was drinking a lot of water to help this little baby grow as healthy as possible) when I saw blood in my underwear. I quickly tried to rationalize to myself that this was just spotting, which I read (after some internet searching) is sometimes typical. However, the part of me that is a hypochondriac, thought something might be wrong. I called my Ob and they immediately scheduled me for a visit that morning. I told my husband what was going on. He told me he felt sick to his stomach, thinking of the worst.

When I got to the Ob, they took a urine sample. The test returned what I already knew - I was pregnant! Strangely, it said that I was only 2 weeks along, when I knew that I was 4 weeks based off of when I took the test (and the notes I had been making using my Ovia fertility app). They did an ultrasound at the office, but weren't satisfied with the data - they told me they thought since I was so early in my pregnancy, their equipment wasn't precise enough to detect the baby. They sent me over to an outpatient unit with a fully equipped ultrasound. 

I will never forget that visit. The room they took me into was dimly lit - as though the stage was already set for the news I was about to get. There was a nurse, at first, who searched my womb for a little baby embryo. Her face was a stone. She kept the ultrasound screen pointed away from me. The optimism that I had been keeping ahold of slowly crumbled with each passing moment with no comment from the nurse. She then told me they would need to do a transvaginal ultrasound to get a better look into my womb. After many more minutes passed, she finally stopped searching. She talked at me, but could look in my eyes and said that she was having difficulty locating the fetus, but this could be since I was so early along that it might be too small to find. She told me she was going to find the doctor on call and have them look at the results; she left the room but didn't clear the last snapshot she took of my womb. 

I got off of the examination table to look at the image. All I saw was emptiness. My heart plummeted and my head reeled. After what felt like an eternity, the nurse returned. She closed the door, kept the lights low, and came to sit beside of me. This time, she looked in my eyes and I saw sorrow. My fears were confirmed before she even opened her mouth. The little embryo would not become our baby. 

The nurse told me the statistics - that almost 20% of women miscarry; some know about it, others don't. She told me she was so sorry. She told me how there must have been something wrong with the fetus for it to spontaneously miscarry. She sat with me as I tried to think of the questions to ask; as I tried to get the courage to stand up. After a few minutes, she left the room to give me privacy. I sat in that room and cried; I sobbed. I called my husband and told him our fears were confirmed; that we lost this little life we had lovingly created.

I got the courage to get up and walk out the front door. The nurse was at the front desk, waiting for me; she had clearly told the other people working at the desk because they were so delicate with me. A rush of thankfulness passed through my sorrow for their kindness. The nurse gave me her card and told me to call her directly if I needed anything. The kindnesses of these strangers moved me, and I had to get out of the office. Everything was too much. 

I sat in my car and cried. I called my mother and sister. Somehow, I drove myself the 10 minutes home, and I don't remember the rest of that day. 

For the next week, I suffered and oftentimes, cried, when I went to the bathroom because there was a reminder of our loss, as my body rid itself of the baby that would never be. In my soul, for some reason, I think this baby was a little boy. I connected with him as soon as I knew he was growing inside of me. I can't explain it, but I felt it was a boy. I mourned him, and as I've written this, I am crying; I will mourn him always, but a little less each time I think of him. My head knows that there was something wrong with how he was growing - he would have had a lifetime of pain or struggle. My body knew this too, and it saved him from pain before he even knew what pain was. My heart still ponders the idea of this little love we lost.

It took me a while to even consider trying to get pregnant again. There was the obligatory time the doctor gave me to allow for my womb to heal. Then there was the time my heart and head needed to allow even the consideration of creating a new life again, now with the paranoia of the "what if's". I knew I couldn't handle another miscarriage; I told my husband if we miscarried again with the next pregnancy, I didn't think I could consider trying ever again. I have always known I was meant to be a mother. I feel it so innately and carnally, and as I mourned our lost little one, this feeling plagued, haunted, and tortured me.

As you can imagine, when we did start trying again, I was tentative and kept myself from getting excited about the possibility of a new life in my womb. We didn't have sex to try to get pregnant, but we didn't take steps to keep me from getting pregnant, either. Then one day, I felt a little off kilter. It was the week before Father's Day when I got the courage to take the test again. I took it one day when I was home alone, and hid the test under my sink for a few hours after I peed on the stick. I had to work up the courage to look - half of me was excited; half of me was anxious. I didn't know if I had the strength to know the answer and got a little angry at myself for even taking a test at one point.

When I did look, the two lines were there!! My womb was filled with new life! 

Immediately, the anxiety over whether my body would reject this new life or not set in. Every time I peed, I searched my underwear for signs of blood. This neurotic behavior kept on through my first, and sometimes my second, trimester. 

From the start, this pregnancy felt different from the first. The baby felt strong. I felt healthy. Despite this, I kept my emotions more distanced from this little life I was growing, well into my third trimester. I couldn't bear the thought of getting more attached to it than I was, only to have the baby taken from me again by the many "what ifs". But this little life was so active throughout her time in my womb, that I eventually stopped having the sinking feeling in the back of my mind that there was a potential I may lose this amazing new life. This little baby was so strong in my womb, and that has yet to stop since in her three months of life. 

Since I found out about our new Little One the week before Father's Day, I of course (I'm a sappy, thoughtful type of girl), bought a Father's Day card to give to my husband. It was a card that had all sorts of animals on it, so I wrote it from the perspective of the animals in our woods and from our cat, Ella, wishing him a happy Father's Day. I've been known for giving him gifts from the cat, so this wasn't suspect. 

What was suspect to hubby was that I couldn't wait the full week between when I found out I was pregnant until Father's Day to give him the card. I was too giddy with excitement. Tuesday after work, I took him out on our deck with our cat and gave him the card "she" picked out for him. I also pulled out my phone to film the event; at this point, he knew something was going on and was wondering what sappy trick I had up my sleeve this time. 

I don't think I even let him read the entire card before I burst out saying he was going to be a Daddy. If I had let him finish, he would have read the card was from our Little One - coming February 2017! 

As I've been writing this, that Little One has been sleeping so sweetly in her crib upstairs. She is our sunshine every single day. God filled our lives with this beautiful soul when we were ready for her, in the way that we needed her. He gave us a gift that I will never take for granted, and will cherish well beyond eternity. My little heart. My little love.

Until next time...Little One is stirring =)