In a Year's Time

As I sit here just seven weeks away from giving birth to our second son, I can’t help but reflect on the fact that I’ve been pregnant for over a year. Your eyes do not deceive you, I said I’ve been pregnant for over a year. I know it seems unthinkable, but it’s true. Let me explain…

It had been a month since we celebrated Cannon’s (our first born) first birthday when I found out I was pregnant again. While we were excited, we were also shocked because it had been six years between our first [ectopic] pregnancy and Cannon. We had been preparing to start trying again once Cannon turned 18mos old. Well needless to say, God had other plans for our family. He obviously wanted to let us know that there was no need to worry ourselves over needing anything except his Grace and Mercy to get pregnant again.

I’ll admit, I was petrified to have two kids under the age of two! This baby was due less than a month before Cannon’s second birthday. The thought of it gave me such anxiety that I was losing sleep at night! While overwhelming, the thought of being a badass tandem-nursing Mama did excite me. I worried so much about being prepared for another baby; about Cannon being ready to be a sibling. I don’t think I’d ever been so confused with my emotions. I wanted and prayed for this baby, but I was SO  afraid of everything that came along with being a Mom of two under two. Nonetheless, we pressed forward and set an appointment with our midwives to confirm the pregnancy.

At about 6wks we went in to have an ultrasound to be sure that this embryo had implanted properly. At that ultrasound, there was evidence of a fetal pole, but no heartbeat yet. We were advised that it may be too early for a heartbeat or we may be dealing with a blighted ovum and asked to return in two weeks. We proceeded with our lives as if we were having another baby in a few months (read: we still had no wine in the house), but were emotionally preparing ourselves for the possibility that this pregnancy would not yield a baby.

During that two-week wait, we lived our lives in prayer. We prayed that we were able to accept God’s decision for our family and that we allowed Him to use us as He saw fit. We’d told our families and close friends that we were pregnant and what was happening with us. They offered their prayers and we accepted. I read countless stories of this happening to women and they go back at 8wks for another ultrasound and there was a healthy embryo with a beating heart. We were optimistic.

A day or so before our second ultrasound, I spoke with my dad. I explained to him how I was feeling and how optimistic I was because I trust God. His words to me were the most empowering I’d heard in this trying time. He said “Well Babygirl, God can and will turn anything around.” That let me know that as unemotional as my dad is, the last thing he wants for his girls (I have three sisters) is to hurt. I keep those words close to me as we approached our second appointment.

At the appointment, we saw more of a developed embryo, but still no heart beat. We were crushed, but knew that God had a plan for us. Once we were done with the ultrasound, the doctor spoke with us and told us that there was no cardiac activity and that more than likely this pregnancy would end shortly. He gave us the option to spontaneously abort (wait it out to miscarry), have a D&C, or to take a prescription drug that would encourage a miscarriage in a few days. We told him we wanted some time to think it over, so he led us into the lobby while he wrote the prescription in the event we wanted to “get it over with.”

While we waited, I turned to Keenan and said to him with tear filled eyes, “I want to birth my baby no matter what. This is our baby and I want to give him or her a birth. Who are we to make this decision for our baby when God has a plan for us and them.” He accepted my words and my choice and we left the office with the prescription in hand (just in case we changed our minds).

A month or so later, Keenan had a work trip planned in Las Vegas, so I took that as an opportunity to get away and relax for a few days (this was my first time leaving Cannon overnight). I drank a little wine at that point because I knew that this pregnancy was no longer progressing (although my uterus was still growing) and I needed to really relax. I had been bleeding off and on for over a month and was exhausted. Still, I wanted to give my body a chance to do what it was designed to do.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years had come and gone and I started thinking that I was crazy for waiting out this miscarriage for so long (at this point, I would have been in my second trimester).  I was tired of wondering when my body would expel the pregnancy, so I decided I would make one last appointment with my doctor to discuss my options again. I called on a Monday and they had an opening for me Wednesday of that same week.

That Tuesday, my mom and I were out shopping and I started cramping like crazy. I was passing blood clots every time I used the bathroom. I was pretty sure this was it. This was the birth of my baby. We decided to go home, so I could lie down and relax some. The entire ride home was gruesome. I used the Hypnobabies techniques to get through the pain as much as possible, but I couldn’t wait to get home, so I could stretch out and do what my body was telling me to do. (I texted Keenan to let him know what was going on, but told him I thought I was ok and to stay at work. He left about 2hrs early anyway.)

Once we made it back to my house, I ate something and took some Advil to help with the pain. I was in a daze. I was happy to be alone (my mom was tending to Cannon). I was happy to be birthing our baby. I was in agony (nothing like giving birth to Cannon), but I was elated at the same time. As with birthing Cannon, movement was the best thing I could do for myself. I swayed and squatted for an hour or so and spent most of the time in the bathroom. Once my body gave me the go ahead, I was able to lie down and rest with very little cramping and slept for a while.

By the time Keenan was home, I was still sore, but I felt a sense of invigoration that I made it through. I was able to take it easy and rest up for our appointment the next day.

At our appointment, we decided to go ahead and schedule a D&C to be sure everything had been eliminated. We were on schedule for the procedure a few days later and I can honestly say that I was ready. I had given myself the time I needed to accept and grieve. I gave my body a chance to work based on Gods design. I had given myself the freedom to follow my heart. With that, I didn’t even think of the D&C as anything more than an outpatient procedure as opposed to the first time we lost a baby in the hospital. The first time I felt robbed. Robbed of my choices. Robbed of my rights. Robbed of my time.

Needless to say, I had one menstrual cycle before we were pregnant again. Ironically, Cannon was about 19mos old when we found out this pregnancy. I felt ready this time. Ready to have two children (still scared as hell even now, but ready). Ready for what God has asked me to do. Ready to celebrate all of our children. I am ready.

So that is how I’ve been pregnant for over a year.  

The Ultimate Betrayal

A little over a year ago, I joined an online community of women that share similar experiences to mine with regard to fertility.  While under the care of a fertility specialist last year, I wrote this letter to my body. It was meant to be jovial, but meaningful to the other women within the community. They got it, and I hope you will too.
-Love and blessings to all in the "struggle".
Gen 30:22

Abbreviation Key: 

AF- Aunt Flo aka Period 

CM- Cervical Mucous

CP- Cervical Position

TPW- The Pregnant Wannabe

Gen 30:22

Good Grief!

Two days after losing the baby, Keenan and I attended the Christening of our first Goddaughter. Somehow, I was able keep my mind on what I was asked to do that day. In fact, I don't remember shedding any tears that day. I do remember thinking, "I'm going to be ok. God is in control."

A few days later a friend of mine that I hadn't spoken to in a long time randomly called to say hi. She didn't know about the baby yet when I  asked her about one of her friends. She told me the friend had recently miscarried her first baby. My heart sank! She went on to say that she and that friend hadn't really spoken much in the months past because the friend thought she wasn't supportive enough during her time of need. My response to this was "Allow her to grieve the way she needs to. Losing a baby isn't easy and we are looking for answers and wish the world would stop to help us find them. Don't abandon her now, continue to check on her every so often even if she ignores you. She needs you. The truth is, I don't know if there will ever be enough support for a woman who looses a baby. Be there anyway. She's grieving. Forgive her."

That was as honest as I could be at the moment. I knew exactly how the friend felt. For me, hurt couldn't be verbalized and it ranged from 1-100 at any given moment. This kind of hurt is different, though. Its coupled with hormones. My body believed I was pregnant and my heart so desperately wanted to be. It was hard to push through day to day. Prayer got me through.

The year I graduated college one of my moms best friends passed away. It was then she said to me "Grief is so personal. No one will understand how you feel; two people can loose the same person and respond differently. It doesn't mean one is grieving more or less than the other." It wasn't until my Granny died that I was able to semi understand what she shared with me. My world was turned upside down in a way that had never happened before. The day she died I called Keenan and told him "My granny died and I'm going to need you". I didn't know how long or in what capacity, but I knew I needed him. I would go to bed praying to dream about her just to see and touch her again and for the first three years on the day she passed, I would ball up and wail as if I had just gotten the news. To this day, I still cry when I think about myself during that time. It was like an out of body experience. I didn't know who I was.

Eventually, the wailing turned into tears of gratitude and joy. Joy that I had know exactly what unconditional love is. There was someone in my life that I could never disappoint. NOW I know what being enough really means. My grief had turned good on me!

Same thing with our baby. I felt that I truly had someone that would depend on me, and what I gave them would be enough. I would never feel used and abused because giving her him/her would be giving to me. The grief was unreal. However, God sent people to me that needed to hear my testimony. Like my friend that called that day; she'd never lost a child, so she wan't able to comprehend what her friend was going through. Their friendship is was on the mend not long after we spoke that day. There's countless stories of women that have crossed my path that needed my testimony and I gave it to them. My grief turned good on me! Again!

I am still unappolgetically hurt by the loss of our baby and if I could change it, I would. What God has given me in return, is good for my heart. Knowing that I have spread His word through giving hope to others is good for me. I asked Him to use me and He is.

5

I've been sitting with my laptop for a few hours now and still cannot decide how to start this. I guess I'll start with stating my purpose: As you read this, I want it to be known that what you read isn't just about me. In fact, I don't believe any of it is about me. I believe that God is using me to help others the way I've asked Him to for the better part of five years. In a short time, I've learned what its like to gain and loose only to gain from loss. Its the most powerful feeling I've ever had. I mean, how on earth can I loose the one thing I've ever wanted and still feel I've gained the world at the same time. I guess that's what motherhood does to you.

Yep, I said motherhood. What many people don't know is, I've been pregnant once and it was the best three weeks of my life. I can recall the day I found out as if it happened this morning.

That morning, on the ride to the train station, my husband was driving my crazy just because we were in the car together. LOL! I couldn't stand him and couldn't figure out why. It was 5:30 in the morning and I had a major attitude with him. Once I dropped him off, I missed him as if he'd been gone for three months. I went on to work and on my way home from lunch, I called my husband and without giving it much thought, I told him I was going to take a pregnancy test because "what God had for us is for us"; he agreed and we hung up. When I got home (I lived 10 mins from my job and had a 2 hr lunch), I decided to use one of the Dollar Tree test I had tucked away and left it on the counter to fix myself some lunch.

As I stood in front of the fridge I began to feel disgusted at the thought of having a sandwich because that meant I would have to eat bread so I opted for a salad. After I ate, I went back to the bathroom nearly forgetting about the test. When I glanced at it, there were two pink lines! I hyperventilated for what seemed like an hour...I called one of my best friends to ask her what she'd told me about dollar store tests; she'd told me that they can give false negatives but are always right when they're positive. I couldn't believe my eyes or my ears! She was the first person I'd said the words "I'm pregnant" to. Pacing around my bedroom, and asking her 100 more questions, I finally realized I needed to call my husband.

I'll never forget the feeling of telling him he was going to be a papa. The love in his voice will stay with me forever...Since my lunch break was so long, I opted to run a get a few more tests. They all read the same thing "pregnant". I'd told my sister the weekend before that I thought I was pregnant, so it came as little surprise to her when I called to confirm. My mom was over the moon and I hadn't told my dad yet. The next day, my mom and sister went to the doctor with me for a confirmation appointment. I was only about three weeks along and was set to go back at six weeks to hear a heart beat.

For the next two weeks, throwing up was a pleasure and I was happy to have crackers at my bedside for when I woke up in the wee hours of the night hungry. It didn't take me long to discover that if I didn't eat in a timely fashion, I would get sick. I remember one Sunday morning calling my mom just to say "I threw up! This baby is already running my life!" She was elated and so was I. Hunger was just as constant as fatigue and it boy was it ferocious, but I loved it. I'm pretty sure I drove my husband crazy with my demands in that short time, but he was beyond happy to meet all of them.

One afternoon during lunch I noticed some light spotting. I called my doctor's office and was assured by someone that the spotting was normal, but if it intensified or was coupled with cramps, to call back. The next day, it intensified, I called back and was told if it turned bright red to call back. I called my best friend who had a 5 month old and told her I didn't feel pregnant anymore and that I was bleeding. She told me that I will not always feel anything and reminded me she bleed during her first trimester. That conversation gave me some reassurance, although I was still quite sure things weren't going to end well.  By the next morning the spotting was bright red and when I called the doctors office, I was told to head to the ER if it turned more into a period flow. That night after work, my husband and I headed to the ER because I was not comfortable with what I'd been told especially since I hadn't spoken directly with my doctor. We left before I was seen because I was horrified with the smell and appearance of the waiting room. The next morning, when I got up to vomit, things were different and I knew it. The bleeding was much worse and I called my boss and told her I was headed to the ER again.

It was an early Friday morning around 5 or 6 am when my husband and I got into the car and headed to the ER (we decided on a different hospital). On the way there, I remember praying to God that His will be done and that I survive the outcome no matter what. I told Him that I trust Him to do what is best for me and my family. When we arrived, I was seen almost immediately. After my vitals were taken I was wheeled into a dark room for an internal ultrasound. I asked the technician if she could see anything, and she simply said "the doctor will go over my findings with you". I looked at the screen to see if I could determine where my baby was, but I didn't know what to look for. I lay there praying with all my might that my baby was ok and that Gods will be done.

Once I was wheeled back into my room, my husband asked if everything was ok, and I simply said "I hope so". It seemed like a good while before the ER doctor came to speak to us about the baby. He explained to us that my pregnancy was ectopic and that I would need to be administered a shot that would dissolve the cells of my baby. He would call my doctor and go over his findings, but was sure that she would agree. Not long after, my doctor arrived to confirm what the ER doctor said to be true and to have me roll over so that she could shoot me in the hip. Just like that, I was stripped of motherhood.

I've only wailed like that one other time in my life, the day my granny died. Only this was worse, because I knew one day she would be gone. I was certain of it, I just wasn't prepared when she did. I never in a million years expected to be pregnant for two weeks and five days before I would ultimately have to say goodbye to my baby. I was supposed to hear a heart beat that following Monday. I've never felt so robbed in my life! I felt robbed of my choice. It all happened so quickly and I grew to resent that doctor and hospital for a long time.

Over the course of the weekend, I got various calls and someone came by to take me to the mall. I truly felt that I would be ok; in fact, I knew I would because I'd prayed for it. The following week, I was advised to stay home from work and rest. During that time, I don't recall getting off my couch very much. I do remember telling my husband that I felt blessed that I was able to keep my fallopian tube and that I was happy that I listened to my body. I remember praying most of my days and asking God to help me move forward, telling Him that I know the He was my only way out of the abyss of hurt I was feeling.

After a while, I began to start my morning with some stretching, deep breaths and prayer. I would ask God to use me in a way that people would know Him through me. I believe he did and still is in many ways. I'm just a few weeks short of 5 years since I had to say goodbye, but I still love our baby. I suppose that feeling will never go away, unless I allow it to and right now, I don't want to. I'm not holding on to the past, I'm holding on to my present. My gift.

I was diagnosed with PCOS as a teenager and told I would need help getting pregnant. I wasn't concerned then, but as time moved on and I got married. When my husband and I decided we were ready to be parents I went to a holistic doctor and she gave me some dietary instructions and an over the counter product to use to regulate my cycles and within three months we were expecting a baby. That was nearly five years ago. I've seen numerous doctors since and have researched PCOS backwards and forwards to no avail. All the while, crying and praying almost daily for peace.

I've found some peace as I had a revelation not long ago that all this time I've asked God to use me and He is. For me, it is heart warming to actually see God using you. At times its painful, but who am I to deny God's gift that I asked for? I know how He's made me. He didn't make me to be full of shame and doubt. He didn't make me strong either. He made me to be His. He's given me a task, and I'm up for it. I've always wanted to be helpful to people and in many ways, I feel trampled on trying to quench that desire. I know now that being helpful does not always mean I will see the results nor does it mean I will always be appreciated. I've become increasingly ok with that because I know what I am made of and with each day, I am becoming less and less concerned with being appreciated.  I KNOW in my heart He has chosen me to spread His word in this way.

With all of that said, I've decided to share the last five years of my life. I'm giving Him glory with my story!