Our road to infertility, part 3. The miscarriage.

(Part 1 and Part 2)

In August of 2011, we finally got the positive we’d been looking for. I was immediately relieved thinking “we can get pregnant!” and also terrified “holy shit this means a baby!”.  Unfortunately, it didn’t last.  I started cramping up badly on a Saturday and had some very light spotting that night.  I knew that both were normal, but that when they show up together, that’s bad news.  I was hoping it was a fluke that they happened at once, and tried to sleep it off.  In the morning I used the bathroom and was so happy to not see any pink on the tp.  However within 10 minutes of getting back in bed the cramping was back full force.  The next time I used the bathroom, it wasn’t just spotting, but a toilet full of blood.  I knew it was over.  I was technically 6 weeks, but knowing what I do now, I think it was more of a chemical pregnancy.  From positive HPT to miscarriage was about 11 days.

I consoled myself in the weeks that followed that we had gotten pregnant within 4 months and that within another 4 months I’d be pregnant again.  I hadn’t even spent 2 weeks pregnant, so while I was very sad it was over, I was also a tiny bit thankful that if it was going to end, it ended early and cleanly.  As I read other women’s miscarriage stories I saw how truly awful the experience can be.  My few days of bleeding and cramping seemed like nothing.  I didn’t need a D&C or medical assistance.  I could try again after just one cycle.  I felt like I got the better end of the shit stick that is pregnancy loss.

What I wasn’t prepared for and what knocked me down repeatedly that fall, was the WINDFALL of pregnancies in my inner circle that followed.  Once they all hit the safe zone at the end of October, I had 5 friends announce pregnancies due in the spring.  4 of those were within mere weeks of my supposed due date.  The closest friend’s due date was identical to mine.  The first announcement was rough, but as the piled up over the course of the next few months, I crumbled.  I wasn’t just mourning my own loss anymore, but I was mourning the missed experience.  What luck to have that many friends pregnant, 4 of whom were 1st time moms too, all at the same time as ME.  And I was going to miss it all because I lost mine.  The last announcement came right before Christmas and it broke my spirit.  I didn’t have the heart to tell any of them about my loss.  How could I do that to someone whose excited to be pregnant?  I gritted my teeth and bucked up for the pregnancy and baby talk that followed.  I reminded myself that these women had no idea what I’d gone through, had no idea their due dates mirrored my own, had no idea that after many of these conversations I went home and cried my eyes out.  It was a really tough time that I felt could only be cured with my own pregnancy.  I was SO SO sure I’d be pregnant by May that I hadn’t even really worried about it.  As January flipped to February flipped to March, the dread set in around the same time as the baby shower invites start flowing.  I went, I smiled, I drank copious amounts of wine.

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