2008, 2009, 2010, 2011. Four years. I have been pregnant in all of them. I have one daughter.
I got pregnant with Fiona in ’08 and she was born in ’09.
In the summer of 2010, I got pregnant, while on the pill, and was possessed by the idea that something was wrong. I was so insistent, that the doctors scheduled me for an early ultrasound. They found nothing in my uterus. They took blood samples. They ran more ultrasounds.
Three days later, I let Jeff take me to the ER with a strong feeling of pressure on my lower right side that turned to pain anytime I moved. My pregnancy was ectopic and my fallopian tube ruptured during surgery. The surgeon looked unbelievably stressed and tired when he spoke to us afterwards.
At the end of last year, 2011, I got pregnant again. We aren’t actually trying, but pretty much all forms of birth control are out for us at this point, except the permanent kind, which we’re not ready for, yet. An early, six week, ultrasound showed a heart beat. I was thrilled.
Three days before we moved 700 miles from Washington to California, we went in for a second ultrasound. They couldn’t find a heartbeat. I stopped breathing. I felt shattered. Because we were changing jobs and insurance I had no further follow up care. I finished miscarrying near the end of January.
Each time we have a loss, I tell myself not to get attached. It’s not a baby, yet. It’s just potential. It’s just hope. It’s not real.
It’s so much heartbreak to have losses. To have that hope and then have it go away. It makes things so much more scary.
When we got pregnant with Fiona, we were fearless. We told our friends right away and all of us went out for dinner. People brought presents. It was magical and amazing.
I want to be that girl again. That fearless woman who was so thrilled that she didn’t wait to share. Couldn’t wait to share. That woman knew it was all okay.
I don’t think I can be. It’s too hard. It’s too hard to have people ask. It’s too hard to be asked two months later by that one person who didn’t hear.
So, with all that in mind, it’s way too early to talk about it, but I want to. No one can know whether this one will stick or not. I’m not ready to talk about it and I’ll want to write about it if I lose it, and if I don’t, so…
The positive was faint and I’m hopeful, but not convinced it will stick. We’ll see. We’ll hope. Cross your fingers for us, okay?