Ok... Sooo... When I first started writing this blog I did it with the intention that I would be completely open and honest about whatever topic I chose to write about. Today I'm going to take on a topic that I've been avoiding for the past month and a half. As much as I'm forcing myself to write about this, I know that in the end, putting it out there will make me feel better and help to prepare me to move on.
It all began the first week of October. I had had a ROUGH week with Farrah. I was trying to sleep train her and she was just not having it. I was living off of almost no sleep and did not think I was going to be able to make it. After a few anger outbursts and mood swings, I realized my period was a little late. Before turning to a bottle of wine to ease my sleep loss pains, I decided to make sure I wasn't pregnant and got a digital test... I really had NO idea that I was in for the shock of my life.
As you can probably guess from here, the test came out positive. I figured I was about four and a half to five weeks along. My husband was SUPER happy and excited, but because of my week of struggling to sleep train Farrah and getting no sleep at all, I had a bit of a breakdown. It wasn't just that I was tired and having one baby was already proving to be a 24 hour near impossible job, but there were a lot of other reasons I had for being upset. I had just finished breast feeding, so I was just starting to feel like my body was my own again. I also had just lost all of the 50+ pounds I had gained with my previous pregnancy and was really dreading being big again. I had gone on a crazy diet and was hardly taking in any calories (see blog post: How I lost the baby weight and then some). The diet was SUPER unhealthy (effective, but unhealthy) and I felt like my body would not be able to handle it. I knew my body was on such a nutrient deficiency that having another baby would just make all of my teeth start to fall out.
After a day and a half of crying and kicking myself in the butt for getting pregnant again before my first child turned 1, I remembered something my mom always said, "If you can't change it, change the way you think about it". I decided this was going to be a good thing thing. It was meant to be. God's will. I did everything possible to make it a positive new chapter in my life. I went through every reason that I had for not being happy about the pregnancy and found a reason to make it a good thing. I started walking at the park religiously. I went EVERY day for an hour long walk to prevent gaining more than the recommended amount of pregnancy weight. My whole diet changed. I refused to eat anything that wasn't good for me and the baby, and I stocked up on salads and nutrient rich foods. I started mapping out where I would put things if it was a boy and I had to re-decorate my daughters room so that they could share it. I made a list of the items my daughter had worn out and I would need to save up for to get new for the coming addition. I started to take weekly pictures of my belly to get me more excited. I even went as far as figuring out my due so I could ask around to find out who would help me when I wouldn't be able to lift my older daughter while my husband was at work after the new baby came... Guess what... IT WORKED! I became ecstatic. I was more excited than I was for my daughter because when I found out I was going to have her, as happy as I was, I was also nervous. This time, I knew what to expect. She had shown me how amazing it is to have a baby and I knew that this was going to be a new addition that I would adore, no matter how hard it was on my body or how hard it was to have a one year old and a new born. My motto was even though having a baby was the most difficult job in the world, it was also the most rewarding. I created accounts on all of the mommy to be sites. I started rubbing cocoa butter on my belly to prepare it to get big again. I made my appointment with my OBGYN for the first sonogram. I signed up for prenatal health care benefits. This time I knew what to expect and I was finally thrilled.
I was in the start of my 7th week when I got a call from my childhood best friend. She called to tell me that she was expecting and we figured our due dates were only 10 days apart! I couldn't wait to go through a pregnancy with her. This was going to be so much fun and the excitement was just doubled.
Another week of pregnancy joy progressed when it happened. I started bleeding and rushed to the hospital where I found out I had a miscarriage. The timing couldn't have been worse as my husband was out of town on business and would not be returning until the evening of the following day. Thank God I had my family to help out while I was at the hospital and support me throughout the process. Having the sonogram taken at the hospital and knowing in my gut that the tech couldn't find a heartbeat was the single worst feeling I have ever had in my life. It's amazing how much you can bond with a baby in only three weeks time.
The day after I miscarried I could not wait to see my husband again. I was so devastated that I was on the verge of vomiting all day. When he finally got home and I was able to see that he was just as upset as I was I knew I wasn't alone or crazy for being so sad when it had only been three weeks.
By the second day after the miscarriage I went to my OB to find out what happened. He assured me that it was very common and 50% of all pregnancy's end in miscarriage and there was nothing I did wrong, nor was there anything I could have done to prevent it. I was able to see where the baby had been and found out I was correct in assuming I was almost 8 weeks along. He said we could wait one cycle and then try again.
I know that losing the baby was what was meant to be. I know that it happened for a reason. I know that it could have been a lot worse. I know that something could have been very wrong with the baby and the loss was likely a blessing in disguise, but none of these things makes it hurt less. They help to mask the pain, but they don't take it away. I feel guilty for being so upset when I first found out I was pregnant. I feel like I cursed myself. I know, I know, its not my fault, but that twinge of guilt still plagues me from time to time. I should have been happy and thanked God from the start. I shouldn't have said so many times that it better be another girl because I want Farrah to have a sister. I should have just been happy that I was going to be a momma again.
I have spent the past few weeks trying to not think about what happened. I do a pretty good job of it too. When the topic gets brought up I try to make it a joke and laugh about it because it is easier than facing what happened. I break down every time I open Facebook and see an update from my childhood friend about her pregnancy. I know that every sonogram and baby bump picture I see is where I would have been if I had not lost the baby. Don't get me wrong. I am beyond happy for her, but it kills me to see it.
I have been trying to run from what happened and pretend that period of my life didn't happen for the past few weeks and I know that by doing that I will only make things worse for myself. I am going to have to face what happened so that I can move on from it. After suffering such a great loss I realized that I would love nothing more than to have another baby. At the end of this week, my husband and I are going to start trying again. I am terrified that we are going to have a hard time getting pregnant, or that we are going to have another miscarriage, but I cant live my life in fear and I have to pick up the pieces and move on. I will never forget the baby that we lost. I will likely never fully heal from it, but I have learned a lot in this whole situation. I learned a lot about myself and a lot about the amazing man I married.
I hope to be updating my blog in a few weeks letting everyone know that I am expecting again and asking for prayers that everything will work out. Its not a matter of if, its a matter of when.
Wish us luck!!!