Five weeks have passed since my heart broke into a million pieces on the exam table of my doctor’s office. It’s funny, when I was pregnant – and holding my breath from week to week, hoping against all hope that everything was okay – time moved at a snail’s pace. Now I feel like it’s moving at lightening speed.
I should be 17 weeks now. I should be playfully arguing with my husband whether paying for the additional ultrasound to find out the baby’s sex 3 weeks earlier is worth it (p.s. still holding my ground that it would totally be). I should be getting lost on Pinterest trying to design the perfect nursery. I should be prepping Maddie for a new baby brother or sister. I should be feeling kicks for the first time. I should still be worrying that everything will be okay. When I think about what I should be doing, I lose myself all over again.
Most days I’m fine. I’m happy, I smile, I tell stupid jokes, and no one is the wiser that my heart is slowly repairing itself one hug at a time. Then something will tip me off, like pregnancy announcements on Facebook (one friend’s announcement was almost identical to what I was planning, that stung a bit) or friends’ ultrasound photos popping up on social media. The pain is still there, it’s not as raw as it once was, but it’s definitely still there.
Recovering from the D&C has been oddly therapeutic for me. I ended up lightly bleeding/ spotting for over two weeks following the surgery. It was my reminder that the pregnancy really was over, which I needed. My period arrived just like clockwork a couple of weeks later. To be honest, I was relieved to see it. I was told to expect my period 4-6 weeks following surgery. I wasn’t sure how I would react when it did arrive, but I ended up taking it as a good sign my body was returning to normal. It’s getting back into its regular routine and preparing to give this whole pregnancy thing another shot. You do your thing, body. I’m just glad it came closer to the 4 week mark, rather than the 6 week mark. Two weeks earlier, means two weeks sooner we can start trying again.
I had my follow-up appointment with my doctor last week. There was good news all around: everything looked fine. All of my blood work came back normal, a sonogram revealed a normal, healthy uterus, and all of the other tests were right in line with what she wanted to see. I was given the big thumbs up to start trying again after my next cycle. She reminded me it was a good sign we were able to get pregnant last time and she’s hopeful we’ll have the same luck again. It was exactly what I needed to hear.
If you’ve ever read a TTC board, then you’re probably familiar with the term “rainbow” baby. If not, it’s in reference to a baby that follows the loss of a pregnancy or child (as in the beautiful rainbow that follows a storm). I’m not sure I’ve ever shared this on here, but my twin brother and I are rainbow babies. My mother lost her first pregnancy at 19 weeks, which left both of my parents heartbroken. Because of a treatment my mom had as a teenager for her thyroid (one where a potential side effect was infertility) my mom went into an all out panic mode. Luckily they were able to conceive again shortly following the loss and were pleasantly surprised to discover they were expecting twins. Nine months later Josh and I arrived, followed a couple of years later by my younger sister and my younger brother a couple of more years after that.
My parents were always very open about that first loss. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so open about sharing ours? My mom has always taught me that losses are a part of life and they help us grow stronger and wiser. She also taught me that miracles can follow losses and I have my faith that our miracle is still out there for us.
Until then I’m still in this weird in between stage taking life one day at a time.