It felt so surreal. I mean, this was the 4th time this year that I've found out that I am pregnant. When every pregnancy thus far has not resulted in a baby in my arms, it makes it really tough to believe that it is real. Per my doctor's instruction, I called that day to notify them of my positive home pregnancy test. I was told that I needed to go in Friday and Sunday to get blood work done so that they could check my numbers. Sure. I can do that. I'm a pro at getting my blood drawn now. Friday morning on the way to work, I stopped in and got my blood drawn. Done. A few hours later they called to tell me that my blood work was consistent with pregnancy and after my blood draw on Sunday, they would call me on Monday with the results.
Sure, more waiting, but doable. Sunday morning I stopped at the hospital once again to get more blood drawn. Easy. Now for the hard part... the waiting! Sunday went fairly quickly for me thankfully. But Monday... that was a long day. I was going crazy waiting for my phone to ring with the results. I checked it dozens of times an hour.
Finally, it rang! It was my doctor. Sadly, she did not have good news this time. My beta levels had dropped between Friday and Monday (and they were pretty low to begin with). This wasn't the one. This miscarriage is classified as a "chemical pregnancy" as it was before 5 weeks. I think I'm collecting various types of miscarriages... regular miscarriage, chemical pregnancy, missed miscarriage.. I am now 4 for 4.
Four pregnancies. Four miscarriages.
Four times I have looked at that little stick in shock and amazement. Four times I have told husband "I'm pregnant". Four times I have figured out my due date... October 15th, November 17th, December 22nd and finally August 17th.Four times I have been devastated by a pregnancy ended in miscarriage. Four. Times.
But the number of times I have been able to feel my baby kick. Zero. The number of times I have set up a nursery. Zero. The number of times I have been able to hold my baby. Zero. The number of babies I have brought home from the hospital. Zero.
I know, it could always be worse. I know that. I truly do, but that doesn't make this not hurt. Just because it is considered a "chemical pregnancy" because it was so early, doesn't make it hurt less. I was pregnant with a child. Another child who will spend eternity in Heaven with my other 3 angel babies. At least they have each other.
It is hard. It is hard to get bad news every time. It is hard to be excited for a life, when every time you have been in that same place, it has ended so soon.
I was lucky enough to take the rest of the day off. I drove home, put on sweats, turned on Netflix and laid on the couch. That is where I stayed for the next 8 or so hours. Sometimes I broke down in tears, but most of the time I felt sort of numb. I am sad. I am disappointed. But I have to remember that this is all for a reason. I have to remember that God has a plan for my life. I have to keep going. I have to keep living. I have to move forward. There will be a next time, and I hope that next time I will finally be able to feel that baby kick, set up that nursery, hold that child, and bring a healthy baby home from the hospital.
I have to believe that this is for a better reason. I have to believe that these are steps that I must take. I have to have hope.
|Found on pinterest|