By now, you know I like to keep things light. I make jokes. I call myself chubby. I try to use what I call “grandma-esque” amounts of profanity (which translates to a few four-letter words here and there, that you’d probably throw around in front of your grandma and then hope she didn’t hear you).
So, I’m warning you now — I’m about to get deep, and a little depressing.
Last week I had another miscarriage. I was about six weeks pregnant this time, which was a week farther along than the time before. So, you know, at that rate I’ll have a baby in like 36 more pregnancies.
We’re frustrated, obviously, and scared. No one can tells us why this keeps happening. We knew going into everything that I have a clotting disorder which can cause issues during pregnancy — so I was already giving myself injections of blood thinner as soon as I found out I was pregnant. Now I have to regroup with the doctors we’re working with and come up with a new plan, because what we’ve been doing clearly isn’t cutting it.
I’m also really angry. I know everyone has their own struggles, and has to overcome obstacles to get the things they want. I was sort of hoping — for us, anyway — that all the time, money, shots and side effects, and medical intervention to get pregnant in the first place would have been enough already.
Having been pregnant, and then suddenly not anymore, twice now — I know that pregnancy will never, ever be an exciting thing for me. Sure, I get excited when we find out it worked! We’re pregnant! But then I think, “I wonder for how much longer.”
And that’s what I think every. single. day.
The first time, I had some warning. My blood tests and hormone levels weren’t doing what they were supposed to do. I knew it was coming, about a day in advance. So this time, I thought, “well, we’ll see how the blood work goes before we get too excited.” After three tests, with normal results I finally started to relax. I’d made it farther than last time. Things were moving in the right direction. And then, completely out of nowhere, it was all over.
So, what happens now?
Well, we run some more tests, and I convince some hematologists to pump my body full of blood thinner, as soon as there’s a chance there could be a bun in my oven. And obviously we’re trying again — we didn’t spend all that time, and money, and I haven’t given myself hundreds of shots to freeze a dozen (hopefully normal) embryos to just give up.
We know a lot of people who have suffered through multiple miscarriages and eventually ended up with healthy, beautiful children — we know it’s possible, and sometimes, well, shit happens. It’s a daunting thing, to try again after so much heartbreak and disappointment, but I have a wonderful husband, and we have the most supportive family and friends.
In the interim, I’ve resumed my love affair with caffeine, Coke Zero, and sushi. My three favorite silver linings.
Oh, and margaritas.
Also soft cheeses. Mmmmm.