Placing Our Trust

In the end, you have to choose whether or not to trust someone. -Sophie Kinsella, Shopaholic & Baby

What is the hardest part of a miscarriage? I’ve been asked and I’ve asked others. It’s not an easy question to answer. I’ve promised to be honest. So, when asked this question this week…I though hard about it. None of it is easy. Nothing about a miscarriage is fine. From all I’ve heard, learned, and shared in the last year…the experience varies. So. I would think this answer would vary. For me…the answer, both times, was trust.

My miscarriages were what is commonly referred to as missed miscarriages. This term I had never heard before September of 2013. I’d always assumed a miscarriage was a miscarriage. A missed miscarriageis a pregnancy loss in which the baby has stopped developing, the pregnancy is no longer viable, and there are no clear signs of a miscarriage. In other words, the body goes right on thinking there is a pregnancy. Symptoms of pregnancy can stay strong. There may still be breast tenderness, nausea, and all the other symptoms of pregnancy. This type of miscarriage is often found out at the doctor’s office. The ultrasound won’t show growth or the heartbeat isn’t detectable at a time where a heartbeat should be seen or heard. You go in for a nice normal visit and find out the development has stalled or the heartbeat has stopped. That is why I have to go with trust as being the hardest thing I’ve gone through with my miscarriages.

I still felt pregnant in September when the doctor told me there was no growth and no heart beat. The fetal development had stopped at around six weeks. I never saw a heart beat. I didn’t see much in the ultrasound either. Development never really happened.

I still feel very pregnant today. All my symptoms are steady, no bleeding and no pain. The ultrasound this past Monday showed development had stopped and the heartbeat we’d seen the week before was gone. This was was worse to me. I’d seen a heartbeat. This past week was so much worse than September because I’d know this baby was developing, had a beating heart, and was growing.

So why trust? All the hardships I could mention, trust seems small. I stick by it though. I have to trust my doctor because my body is lying to me. My body tells me the doctor is wrong. My body tells me that I still am pregnant. My body is still thinking I will be a mother. I could wait for body to catch up with reality. I’ve already scheduled the D & C because I can’t wait for my body to understand. I have to trust someone else is right.

What’s the hardest part if a miscarriage? Trust. It’s not the worst part of this…it’s the hardest. I have to trust other people…the doctors, nurses, and others that want to help me. I also have to trust myself…that I am making the right choice…that I know what I need to heal…that I know what I need to move on.

Holding What You Can’t Have…

The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit. – Nelson Henderson

The news isn’t good. No growth. The small trembling heart beat is silenced. Another missed miscarriage. A part of me was ready for this…but another can never be. I feel like I should have known. I feel betrayed once again by my body. Pregnancy symptoms have remained high. How can I still feel nausea and so very pregnant when it ended?

The fact that everyone assures you that it’s not your fault…is misleading. It’s not. I get that. It doesn’t feel that way though.

My first pregnancy resulted in lots of advice. My mother warned that being a parent would result in the need to make lots of decisions. Now I have to decide how to end this. Do I have another D & C or do I wait? I don’t like pain. I don’t like waiting. I feel like I’m giving up. I want to hide.

We can’t know what the future holds. Two miscarriages in less than a year. It doesn’t seem fair.

J assured me…it’s not my fault. We’ll try again. If we never have children it’s okay because we have each other. I love him. It’s not okay. There is a life I wanted for us. It’s too dark right now to see it but I wanted it all the same. It’s not mine to have. I can’t hold what’s gone.

I don’t want to say good-bye.