I still find it hard to squeeze words out of my heart to express the grief and sadness that has kept us silent for almost a month. I guess you can’t take something out of an empty vessel no matter how hard you try. My heart is empty and so are my tears.
We thought we’ve lucked out on baby dusts after we had Sophia. It took us 6 years to get pregnant after all. Imagine our surprise and excitement when we saw two lines on a home pregnancy test. Although it was a faint positive (the 2nd line was not very clear), it was a positive nonetheless.
We were ecstatic. We can’t wait to have another baby and I’m certain that Sophia would be a wonderful big sister.
However, there was a dark cloud of doubt hanging over my head. Something didn’t feel right about this pregnancy. I took a total of 8 pregnancy tests in a span of 5 days and the results were the same. It remained to be a faint positive. It made me restless. It should be a big fat positive (bfp) by now. I should be seeing 2 clear lines after 3 days.
My doctor had me take a quantitative blood serum test to confirm my pregnancy and it did come back as positive. The blood test verified that I was pregnant but it did little to quell my fears. My HCG level was within range but I felt that it was extremely low at 374 mm/IU for 5.5 weeks pregnant me. I tried reaching out to people to share my worries; probably get some reassurance perhaps. But I was either ignored or brushed off. I stopped talking to people after that. I had my husband and Sophia and they were enough to keep me grounded and sane.
This pregnancy was completely different from my first. I know that each pregnancy differs but my gut was telling me that something was amiss. Probably because I didn’t feel pregnant at all. I didn’t have any symptoms other than sore nipples and occasional spells of dizziness and fatigue. I had constant back pain and light to moderate cramps.
I was terrified to lose this baby and I spent my nights browsing the internet for answers until I cried myself to sleep. I had multiple scenarios running in my head and it was difficult to bottle up all my emotions as hope, worry, anxiety, and fear struggled within my heart.
Although it was still too early for an ultrasound, I convinced my husband that we needed one. We were able to see a small gestational sac (4.6 mm) but the yolk sac and the embryo hasn’t developed yet. The sonologist assured us that based on the size of the sac, it was still too early in the pregnancy to detect the embryo. We were advised to get another scan after 2 weeks. And thus began my days in limbo. Are we waiting for a baby or are we just waiting to miscarry?
Is this a blighted ovum? Did we make a mistake with our dates? Or will this be a missed miscarriage?
Will there be an embryo in 2 weeks? Why is the baby’s development delayed? Will the baby have birth defects?
Will I miscarry naturally? Would I need a D&C? God please don’t make me lose this baby.
Probably you’re thinking that I was too pessimistic and my frame of mind affected the end result. I tried to be positive throughout this ordeal. I did my best to cling to hope. I prayed that a miracle would happen and I would carry this baby to term. We even started to choose a name for our little beanie. But I know my body and it broke my heart that it was telling me otherwise.
Everyday, each time I would feel cramps or back pain, I would think to myself; “Is it happening now? Am I miscarrying right now?” I would rush to the bathroom and breathe a sigh of relief each time I don’t see blood. Hope was my worst enemy at that time.
We kept our secret to ourselves and we planned to let everybody know once we get the result of our second scan. We had it scheduled on December 2nd. Just a couple of days to go.
But life has other plans for us. November 29, Sunday morning. I woke up and saw blood when I wiped.
I thought, “Oh hey, it’s probably just a wee bit spotting. It’s not bright red and a bit of spotting during pregnancy is normal, right?”
We pretended that it was nothing but towards noon, I started to bleed with severity. The waves of pain became a constant crescendo and it was heartbreaking to know that my body is trying to let go of my precious beanie.
The cramps and backache grew in intensity until I couldn’t even manage to lie still in bed. The pain level was sharper than my labor induction with Sophia. Beyond the physical distress, the agony of loss made everything more painful.
Around 5:30 pm on a long weekend Sunday, I lost my little beanie. I felt him leave my body. And I felt my heart go empty.
We never got to find out if it was a missed miscarriage or if it was a blighted ovum. We never got the chance for a follow up scan. But with this miscarriage was my closure. I don’t have to lie in bed at night and be tortured about “Are we waiting for a baby? Or are we waiting to miscarry?”
Because now we know.
Despite all this heartache, I am still thankful. I am grateful for my husband who stood by my side and listened and shared my fears. I feel lucky to have Sophia, my baby, she kept my sanity well anchored and her laughter and smile kept me from falling into depression. I feel deep appreciation for Mayleen, who was there when I sorely needed a friend. My Dad who always checked in on me to ask about my pregnancy.
I am grateful because God still made it easy for me. I was terrified of a D&C and he made me miscarry naturally instead. I thought the pain would overwhelm me but I was able to ride it through without any pain medication. I didn’t hemorrhage and I didn’t need to be rushed to the ER. I “labored” for 8 hours and the pain subsided as soon as I passed the sac.
I am grateful because I know some women went through a more traumatic experience.
My body may have mended quickly but our hearts are still grieving. We have named our little beanie, Edward. We hope that one day we will soon see a rainbow at the end of this storm.