13 Weeks Pregnant and Petrified

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

We worked so hard to get here. I injected needles into my stomach and put pills in places you wouldn’t think pills should go. I cried as many tears as it would take to fill a river. I took medication that really messed with my hormones to the point where I thought I was going crazy. My hair fell out. I stopped recognizing myself in the mirror. I deleted my social media accounts and then kept coming back just to see all of the pregnancy announcements that would leave me on my kitchen floor sobbing. I stopped going to baby showers. I’ve distanced myself so much from friends that I am not even sure if they know I still exist. I’ve lost out on the opportunity to connect with their children because I was in so much pain. I have regrets. I have PTSD. I have extreme anxiety. I have chronic depression. I have often forgot what it feels like to be really happy. But I also have weekly therapy appointments and bi-weekly acupuncture appointments that also get me through. This is simply the reality of dealing with infertility, miscarriage, and loss.

I knew that it would be hard to see the word pregnant again. I knew this. In fact, I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the test. I took the pregnancy test and told Henry I was taking a shower. I got out of the shower and put a robe on and sat on the bed waiting for Henry to come in and tell me the bad news. It was another negative. But he didn’t come. I walked to his bathroom door and tried walking in but it was locked. I put my ear to the door and heard him crying on the floor. I knew what this meant. I walked back to my room and sat on the couch waiting. Finally, after what felt like hours, he opened the door and I stood at the doorway while he walked to me with tears in his eyes. I told him it was okay. I could take this again. Rather than confirm, he cried and said “Babe, you did it” and we hugged and it was special but I couldn’t help but think back to seven months prior to when this same exact thing happened. Except that time I videotaped it because I wanted to have that moment forever. That video still haunts me.

I told myself I just had to get through each week. I shook and cried on the bed before our first ultrasound. My angel RE allowed Henry to be there knowing what I had been through. (Many of you probably already know this but because of Covid, partners are currently not allowed in the room for any pregnancy appointments.) At six weeks, she confirmed a heartbeat. We both cried tears of relief but I knew I had been here before. On November 1, I would wake up at 5am on a Sunday to spotting. My heart sank. I was scared. We rushed to the office for an emergency ultrasound and the doctor on call confirmed a heartbeat. We breathed a sigh of relief. She then told me she saw a sub-chorionic hemorrhage on the scan and told me to go home and rest. For those of you who do not know what a sub-chorionic hemorrhage is, it is defined as “the accumulation of blood between the uterine lining and the chorion (the outer fetal membrane, next to the uterus) or under the placenta itself. It can cause light to heavy spotting or bleeding, but it may not.” The next day I would wake up to a pool of red blood. I expected the worse. Nobody could bleed this much and still have a healthy pregnancy, right? I laid in bed unable to work, unable to do anything, and just cried and prayed. I went in the following day for another ultrasound and my RE confirmed the baby was growing and had a heartbeat. We hugged and cried. I transitioned from bedrest to light rest over the course of the next three weeks. Every week, I went in for another ultrasound holding my breath and shaking. I was unable to function. I went from the bed to my desk back to bed and tried to eat what I could. At my 10 week appointment, the sonographer said she could no longer see a bleed. I officially graduated from the RE’s office. Why am I not relieved? Why am I not happy?

I had my first OB appointment the following day. When I told my RE about the experience and who I was seeing, she thought I needed to go to another office, specifically the 3701 office. I was doing everything in my power to avoid that office. The last time I stepped foot in that office, I was alone in a room sobbing to strangers after finding out we had lost the twins. Could I do that again? I know my RE wanted the best for me and allowed her to make some calls to squeeze me in with a last minute appointment. Who was that appointment with? She was able to get one with her OB. Who was that OB? The same OB I saw that day we found out about the twins. Coincidence? I’m not sure. I honestly didn’t know if I could do it. I talked to my therapist who helped me understand that a trigger is only a trigger if you continue to avoid it. Sometimes you have to move straight through it. I held my breath for two days as I waited for the appointment. I cried to Henry telling him it felt like I was walking right back into a burning house.

The appointment went well. I was able to replace a really traumatic experience with something better. It felt like a big milestone. I felt good. I felt confident in this pregnancy and then one week went by, and then another one and I am beginning to panic again. Did I make all of this up in my head? Did the past three months happen? I’ve been through so much that I am not trusting my own experiences anymore.

I kept telling myself I just needed to get to 13 weeks. Somehow I am here and I don’t believe it. I was going to tell my friends and my niece and nephew on Christmas. Can I still do that? I am not sure. Maybe I should just make sure everything is okay. No, I need to trust that everything is okay. I need to have faith. Faith is hard when you’ve lost it for so long.

I don’t know how I feel. I’m confused. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I want this so badly.