Infertility and a Miscarriage after Losing Mom

The nurses gave me two beautiful stones to remember my twin pregnancy.

One in eight women suffer from infertility. One in four suffer from miscarriage/infant loss. I can now say I fall into both categories. I am part of yet another club that I never wanted to join….but nobody seems to talk about this.

Why is it that when we are grieving, when we are at our absolute worst, we are somehow supposed to do it in silence? Why is it that women feel so much shame and guilt around having trouble conceiving? Why is it that our society paints this beautiful picture of women having babies, but never seems to focus on the massive amount of women who are struggling? Why is it that I never even knew there were multiple ways to miscarry a baby? Why is it that women who turn 30 are now against this invisible “ticking clock?” Why is it that I had a timeline to get married by 30, get pregnant by 31, and have kids by 32? That way I could have my second kid before I became high risk and was…gasp….35. Why is it that I felt guilty for wanting to wait to have children so that I could advance in my career and get my master’s? Why do I feel “less than” around all mothers who have had no trouble conceiving their children? Why is it that I was so ignorant to believe that just because I had trouble conceiving and because I endured so much pain this past year, that there was no way I could miscarry, let alone miscarry twins? Why was I so wrong? Why are we so scared of tragedy? Why did I feel like I needed to be “strong” and not show pain throughout this whole ordeal?

For better or for worse. I am really looking forward to the better part. Photo by Love by Joe Mac.

On March 4th, Henry and I found out we were pregnant. After 15 months of trying to conceive, a laparoscopic surgery, multiple fertility appointments, and so much bloodwork and so many tests, it finally freaking happened! I have a video of us crying that I can’t bring myself to watch. On March 12th, we were able to rule out an ectopic pregnancy. On March 13th, COVID-19 took down our country and my biggest concern was making sure this baby was safe. On March 20th, we found out we were having twins (!!) and we saw both of their little heartbeats. My fertility doctor called it a “spontaneous identical twin” pregnancy because we hadn’t started treatments yet. This was our last cycle trying naturally before starting the IUI/IVF process. To say we were excited would be an understatement.

I was also anxious. I didn’t go outside for six weeks, not even to go for a walk or go to the store. I avoided anything that could cause harm to my babies. This was our miracle, our blessing, the silver lining to all of the tragedy we endured this past year. I wasn’t going to do anything to mess this up. I wasn’t going to fail. One year after my mom’s sudden death, something amazing was finally happening to me and my family. I cried tears of joy with my sisters over FaceTime calls and in-person with my dad and Henry’s mom and sister. Our tears were also sad knowing my mom would have been ecstatic with this news.

But on April 23, at my 11 week appointment, with Henry sitting in the car on a FaceTime call (because….COVID), we found out that I had a missed miscarriage, a term I had never even heard before. I went into the appointment petrified I had lost ONE twin to something I learned was “Vanishing Twin Syndrome.” I never, in a million years, thought I could lose both of them…especially after the nurse assured me that it was rare to lose ONE twin after seeing the heartbeat.

Our biggest fear had come true. Every night, as the world crumbled around us to this virus, Henry and I held hands and prayed to God to keep these babies safe and healthy. Today, I had to get a procedure done (alone again because…COVID) that I would not wish on my worst enemy because surgery was a more dangerous option given the current climate of the hospital (again..COVID). I know Henry was crushed he couldn’t be there with me to hold my hand on Thursday and today, but I am so grateful to have him as my partner through all of this pain and loss. I pray this long and hard journey leads us to become parents to a beautiful biological baby.

For four days, I soaked up every last minute of finally being pregnant with my twins before having to let them go. I will always treasure the special feeling of seeing the word “pregnant” on that pregnancy test and the experience of sharing that news with our families. I will do anything to get that moment again, but this time hold a baby in my arms at the end.

When we went over to tell my Dad about the good news, I snapped this photo when no one was looking. I didn’t know why I was doing it at the time. I just thought I wanted my babies to be close to my Mom.

November 12th was the twins’ due date and I will always wonder “what if.” They were Scorpios, just like my sister, and Henry’s sister and mom, and my sister’s boyfriend. The announcement, which we were excited to do the following week, was already planned. It was obviously going to be sneaker-themed for Henry. One of the nurses asked me if I wanted to take home two beautiful stones to remind me of my twins. She emphasized giving me two stones. I said “yes” because as painful as this is now, I always want to remember how beautiful it was to experience this pregnancy, even if our time was cut short.

An ounce of consolation I have received during this time was knowing that my mom is a “Cak Cak” in heaven. I mourned the fact that she would never be a Cak Cak to these twin babies on earth but I now picture her with her arms full of love in heaven.

Mom, today was an incredibly hard day. I’ve asked you over and over again what is the point of all of this pain? If I was meant to carry these babies so that you could take care of them in heaven, then that is enough for me. But please, I beg you, please send some earth angels too. I think Henry and I would make great parents. I told Daddy that you built me to handle something like this. You built all of us to handle this and everything else. Thank you for that. I never understood why you were so adamant about us “being strong.” There were times when that “tough love” was the last thing I wanted but now I know it’s what I needed because you were training me for this long period of pain and heartache. During the outpatient procedure, a nurse held my hand and kept saying over and over again, “Bonnie, you are stronger than you think.” I know that was you.

Love you infinity, Mom.

Love,

Your Sweetheart

xoxo