As the year went on we realized we couldn't wait that long. In July 2014 we started trying and had instant success. On July 26th two lines showed up on a stick and I stuck a bun in the oven and waited for my husband to come home. We were shocked and terrified and thrilled. It was torture keeping it a secret, so we ended up telling most close family and friends by week 8.
Being a first time prego, I navigated appointments and vitamins and symptoms with naive excitement and lots of internet "research." My first appointment confirmed that I was indeed with child and my bloodwork and tests came back totally normal. At my next appointment, I was 11 weeks and my husband and I sat patiently as my midwife searched, and searched, for the babies heartbeat. She couldn't find it, but told me not to be concerned, that my uterus was healthy and loud and we would hear it next week.
Next week came and again we were waiting, and waiting, for that heartbeat to fill the speakers of that Doppler device. My midwife was on vacation, so the sweet nurses there got me an ultrasound appointment, but not because they were concerned, just because they knew how bad we wanted to hear or see something. I was so grateful and excited, but not at all alarmed.
It wasn't until 15 minutes into waiting in the radiation waiting room that I thought to myself "what if something is wrong?" I sat with my doubt for a minute and turned to my husband and told him I was nervous. He wasn't, and he said we had no reason to be. So I shook it off, our name was called, and some more gel was squeezed on my belly.
The ultrasound tech started searching and was immediately quiet, taking pictures and measurements at the speed of light. I saw what looked like a tiny baby on the screen, but there was no heartbeat and no moving. She excused herself to talk to the radiologist and a cold fear fell over me. I looked at my husband and said "this isn't good." He was hopeful and reassuring, but I can still see the concern in his eyes. I had never seen that look before. He wanted to tell me it was okay like he always does, but we both knew.
We got the news and immediately the tears came. Disbelief. Anger. Sadness. All at once. We cried together, but then my husband turned his off and got ready to navigate whatever came next. We had to meet with an doctor to discuss options and concerns. We scheduled a D&C. I had a pelvic exam. They recommended I take the rest of the week off to mourn. It was all a blur.
The doctor mentioned and explained that this might be a partial molar pregnancy. At the time of the ultrasound I was 12 weeks 2 days, but the baby only measured at 9 weeks. The placenta and sac were the size they would expect for 12 weeks though. I had no idea what that meant, but I was devastated that my body had tricked me into thinking my baby was still alive for three weeks. I still can't described what that really felt like, but it felt like disgust, disappointment, shame, and complete sorrow all together.
I was scheduled for a D&C that Monday, which meant I had to spend the weekend mourning my baby while it was still in me. Looking back, I am thankful for that. In a weird way it helped me say goodbye, because I wasn't ready to let go. I got to spend a few more days with my baby, feeling pregnant, looking pregnant, and I'm glad I got that chance.
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