My very own Rainbow Baby
I don't even know where to start with this, but let's just start with the fact I was naive enough to believe that this wouldn't happen to me. When I got pregnant with my first daughter, Charlotte, the pregnancy sucked, I was miserable 9 full months. Looking back, maybe that was to remind me getting pregnant isn't always as easy as it was for me, for everyone else. I swore up and down, I wasn't going to get pregnant ever again. I hated my pregnancy for the entire 9 months, the best part of those months was my scheduled c-section on August 28th, 2017. I spent the first year of Charlotte's life taking medication to control my postpartum depression. I was convinced being a mom wasn't for me. But things started to brighten up after the 1st year. Charlotte grew out of her colicky phase, my body was getting used to my medication, and Charlotte and I really started to bond.
Fast forward to Charlotte being 2.5, I have spent every waking moment with her for 2.5 years. She didn't attend daycare or visit a babysitter, she only had a handful of sleepovers with family up until this point, she has been by my side through everything. She is my tag along for grocery store trips, dinner dates, beach vacations, gas station runs, you name it.
Charlotte is the sweetest, most kind souled child who thrives off of playdates, socialization, and friendships. She loves playing with other children, but COVID-19 hit, baseball season didn't start back up, all of our playdates and sense of "normalcy" came to a halt. My husband, Brian, and I decided for Charlotte's sake we needed to try to bring a sibling into her life, she deserves a best friend. So much so, all my horrible experiences with pregnancy seemed to be completely forgotten. We needed this for Charlotte's sake.
If you know me, you know I am a planner. I literally plan/make lists for everything in my life, my life is run on a strict timeline. In November 2019, I started taking a medication that was highly dangerous if I were to get pregnant while on it. I knew my treatment would end in March and I was allowed, and it was safe to begin trying to conceive in June. We tried one time. Towards the end of June, I could read my body, something was different, a good different. I took a test 2 weeks BEFORE my missed period and got a positive. I took 20 more in the days following, all positive. I got into a doctor at 4 weeks and it was confirmed again. I still had a lot of doubt in my mind that I was actually pregnant.
My sister-in-law Olivia has been battling infertility for a while now, she and I talk about it almost daily. My sister had a stillborn last year at 24 weeks. On our Lettie Lovie account, we follow many accounts where mothers share their journeys with miscarriages and infertility, I see the struggle daily on our news feed. I encourage these women, I support these women, I didn't think I would ever be one of these women. Doubts filled my mind that this pregnancy was legit, even after multiple tests and a doctor's confirmation, why? Because I felt guilty that this was so easy for me...again. I went to a different doctor at 7 weeks for another confirmation, pregnancy confirmed. At this point, my doubts began to drift off. Two doctors confirmed and I had all the pregnancy symptoms I hated from the first pregnancy. I told Charlotte we were getting her a sibling. I NEVER would have thought that she would hold onto this idea so tight, I mean shes not even 3 at this point. But we talked daily about the baby in my belly, we picked out names, we planned our announcement, our gender reveal. We had a due date of March 12th, 2021.
My first ultrasound was scheduled and at 9 weeks I headed to the doctor. I went alone, this seemed normal. My first pregnancy, Brian was in baseball season and I attended most of my ultrasounds solo. I would like to say I was prepared to walk in and see my sweet baby, but to be honest, something felt off, things seemed off from the beginning. The US tech does an external ultrasound and we see a sac, but then she doesn't say much other than we were going to do a vaginal one. In she goes and she begins with " I am so sorry"... "With a sac this size, we should see a baby and a heartbeat", we saw nothing but a black empty sac. So all the "I am so sorrys" began from the tech to the nurse, to the doctor, to the lady who drew my blood, to the receptionist who scheduled me for my D&C. I held my composure. To be completely honest, I wasn't emotional, I felt terribly guilty about this, but I felt fine, I took the news better than anyone seemed to think I would.
Blighted Ovum, that is was happened. A blighted ovum (also known as “anembryonic pregnancy”) happens when a fertilized egg attaches itself to the uterine wall, but the embryo does not develop. This allows your body to believe you are pregnant giving you all the symptoms. My doctor gave me the options to wait and miscarry on my own, take a pill to help, or have a D&C. I chose the D&C. I knew that was the quickest option to get me back on track to trying to conceive again. And from the moment I found out I didn't actually have a baby inside me, I was already planning when I would be able to start trying again and best case scenario, could I have another baby before Charlotte turns four in August of 2021.
Luckily, my doctors ruled this D&C an emergency and I was able to skip COVID testing and get scheduled 5 days later. In those days I either going to miscarry on my own (which I was genuinely terrified of) or my body was going to continue with its pregnancy symptoms. Wednesday, August 12th my surgery was scheduled for 6 am. The night before I was given Cytotec to take at midnight to dilate me. By 1:30 am my body was miscarrying. I was up all night with terrible cramps and lots of blood, 6 am couldn't come soon enough. My procedure was a breeze I was home by 11 am and decided to walk 3 miles, my body felt great. All my pregnancy symptoms were gone, I was hardly bleeding, I had no cramps and no regrets.
You know, the tears/emotions haven't even really hit me yet. I cried once when I came home from the Ultrasound and Charlotte asked me if they cut the baby out (she knows her whole birth story) and I explained to my 2-year old that the baby wasn't healthy and didn't grow, mommy and daddy would have to try again. She understood...She has told me multiple times over the last week that she misses the baby. I know the emotions will come, that is why I have decided to share my story. Writing is therapeutic for me. I enjoy talking out all my problems/issues. And, I am forever grateful for the community Lettie Lovie has provided me with. So many women experience this loss and hearing/seeing their stories give me hope that I will, when the time is right have my own little rainbow baby.
But for now, it's the three of us & that's where I will try to focus <3