It Will Be Us

NOTE: For any of this to make sense, please see the first post linked here.

The Pregnancy

When I found out I was pregnant, it wasn’t pretty. I stood in the bathroom looking at those two small pink lines and I was freaking out. I wanted to get pregnant, obviously, but I had this feeling of guilt, like in some way Chris is going to think that I tricked him. He’s going to kill me. He was right. What am I going to do?

I walked back out to the living room visibly shaken. Chris was laying on the couch. I said “Hey, I’ll be right back I need to go to Walgreen’s.” He sat up and said “What? Now? Why?”  It was about 6:30 pm. We’d been out all day. I’m pretty sure we’d gone to Walgreen’s earlier, too. I didn’t know what to say but it was obvious I didn’t think the lie through. “I just need something, I’ll be back.” He was confused. He could tell something was off. I threw on some flip flops and ran out to the car. I sped down to Walgreen’s for a digital test. Two lines on a measly strip of paper weren’t enough. Maybe they were lying. Maybe I’d left the strip alone for too long without looking at it. I needed the little window on a long plastic stick to say either “pregnant” or “not pregnant”

When I got home, I was so sweaty from the adrenaline rush and the panic of explaining everything to Chris. I knew what his reaction was going to be. This was not going to be the Instagram Story viral sensation of 2017. This was not going to get us a surprise guest spot on Ellen for the cutest pregnancy announcement of the year.  

Chris was suspicious from the second I walked in the door. Like, what the fuck is wrong with you. I went to the bathroom without saying anything to him; I peed on the stick. It said “pregnant” in under a minute. I nervously walked out to him and started to cry. I showed him the test and I could immediately see his frustration. He smiled, but not a happy smile. It was definitely a you have to be fucking kidding me smile. He sat up, and still didn’t say anything. I went over to him and sat on the floor at his feet, almost as if pleading with him to understand. I just start rambling on about how I didn’t know I was ovulating when we had sex and that this wasn’t planned and I didn’t know, but also highlighting the whole it takes two to tango concept.

While I’m blabbering through intermittent tears he gets up and starts wandering around the house looking for something; he finally finds them – his shoes. He was getting ready to leave. I say “What are you doing?! Where are you going?!” Just as I had not explained my abrupt leaving, he was not explaining his. And that was it. He left. The only thing he said before he left the house was “If you need to talk you can call your mom.” Which, goes without saying, I had called her on the way to Walgreen’s and told her everything while freaking out and trying not to get in an accident. She was thrilled, this baby is gonna be so cute! But she too sort of knew Chris would not be as excited.  

Chris was gone for four hours. He didn’t answer my phone calls and eventually turned off his phone. He didn’t respond to any of my 30ish text messages which ranged from “I’m sorry” to “Are you fucking kidding me?” to “I love you, we will figure this out” to “Are you joking? Is this a joke?” I eventually had exhausted myself with tears and panic and went and laid in bed waiting for him to get home.

For the last four hours every thought possible ran through my head. We just signed paperwork to build our house. How are we going to pay for a baby? We have to furnish said house. We’re getting out of debt. How much are diapers? We just got married. He was right; we should have waited. We’ll never go on a vacation again. I need to start taking vitamins. I’m going to get fat. I’m already fat. So i’m just going to get fatter! I need to cut out sugar. Should I cut out coffee? All caffeine? Can I still have cheese? When is Chris coming home? Is he going to resent me? He’s going to think I tricked him. He’s going to think that I knew I was ovulating that day. Is he going to love this baby? Is it going to still love me? But really, can I still have cheese? I’m going to get so fat.

He finally came home. He came in the room and laid down. Even in the dark while we laid there together quietly, I could tell he was exhausted, too. He was mad, but still calm. Something that I appreciate about him. He has an unearthly strength in his ability to be composed at all times.  I find frustration with this sometimes. Sometimes I want to see some fire in him, ya know? He said he wasn’t mad at me. That this was unexpected and he just needed time to process it. That we will figure it out and it will be okay. I told him he can’t just leave like that again and not communicate. He apologized. I remember feeling like he maybe didn’t fully mean it. But just as I refuse to apologize for my feelings and emotions, he doesn’t need to apologize for his. We went to sleep and we didn’t talk about how that night went ever again. But his reaction broke my heart. We will not be invited on Ellen.

The Miscarriage

Being pregnant was fine. I was mostly just always tired. And I always had cramps. I always felt like I was on the verge of getting my period. It made me nervous that something was wrong. Everyday up until our ultrasound I took a pregnancy test just to make sure it still said positive. Don’t worry, I just used the little strips that came with the ovulation kit. I wasn’t throwing away money on digitals. In sum, my boobs were sore, my ovaries ached, and I wanted to sleep all day.

And yes, Chris totally warmed up to the idea of our little family. We picked out potential names. We started an Amazon wish list. We told our parents, siblings and best friends. We started eating right. I started sleeping – all the time.

At what would have been 6 weeks 4 day  we went to the doctor. We thought he’d confirm the pregnancy but told us it was too soon for anything. “Walgreens tests are accurate,” he said. “Start taking some prenatal vitamins. Get sleep. Don’t eat soft cheese. Don’t eat processed meats. Blah. Blah. Blah.” He basically said a lot of “you can’t” and ordered a truly expensive round of blood work. On the way home from Quest Diagnostic I started to cry. I’m sure Chris thought it was my hormones. It probably was. But, I was thinking I can’t have any of the good cheese. 

At 7 weeks 4 days we went back to the doctor for our first ultrasound. It had been about three and a half weeks since we found out.  We sat in the lobby for about an hour before they called me back to the exam room. It was just Chris and I and the ultrasound tech. She was really pretty and I wondered how much money she made. I laid down on the table, Chris sat next to me and got out his phone. The tech told him not to start filming yet until we hear a heartbeat. She started the ultrasound. That early, it’s a transvaginal ultrasound.  It was rather uncomfortable. Chris was really uncomfortable, which was amusing. She took whatever measurements she needed and then turned on what sounded like white nose. And that’s all it was. She said “hmm” and I said “what’s wrong?” She turned the machine off. Removed the speculum, and said “Well, nothing is wrong, we just need to talk to the doctor. You can get dressed and we’ll take you over to another exam room.” I sat up and sighed. I knew. No heartbeat. I looked at the floor and the corners of my mouth turned down. My eyes started to water. The tech said… “okay…” but in a tone that made me want to gouge her eyes out. Like, okay well I’m not going to deal with your tears.  She left the room. I didn’t cry. I got dressed and we went into another exam room.

We waited for the doctor for about 10 minutes. When he finally came in he got right to it. He shook hands with Chris and sat down; photos of the ultrasound in hand. He didn’t want to show them to us. He wouldn’t let us keep them. He said “well we’re looking at a possible twin miscarriage.” There were two sacs. “We should hear heartbeats at this point, but just to be sure we can do another ultrasound next week to see if one of the sacs absorbs the other and we could maybe still get a heartbeat. If not, we can go ahead and schedule a D and C.”

We had so many questions. “Twins?” “Could it still just be too early?” “What’s a D and C?” “Is there still hope?” “When can we try again?” “How far along was I?” “Twins? As in two?” “Why did this happen?” “Did I do something wrong?” “What could I have done better” “What did my blood work say?”

The measurements of both sacs were at 6 weeks 4 days; so a week behind. My progesterone levels were very low from the prior week’s blood work. Everything else on the blood work was completely fine. He just said “these things happen” and “there’s a 5% chance you’ll have a second miscarriage” He doubted it would happen again. He wanted to give us hope. I felt defeated.

As soon as we walked out of the exam room and walked up to the counter to pay I started to cry. I mean more like, sob, sort of loudly. I was embarrassed, but also had so many other emotions I was not expecting or prepared to experience. The lady behind the counter said “If you need to cry you can go into that exam room until you’re done.” I wanted to punch her. I said “No, I’m fine” and told Chris to pay. I left him there and went out to my car. Chris had taken a separate car that day but came over to mine and sat in the passenger seat when he was done paying. He put his arm around me. I ask him, “Are you sad?” and he said he was, too. I cried for a few more minutes. When I stopped I said,  “Of course this happened. Of course we lost it. I knew it. Those fucking cramps. I knew something was wrong.” We sat there for a few more minutes in silence and then we both headed home.

At 8 weeks 4 days we had our second ultrasound. We had the same tech. This time my mom came. It lasted all of 30 seconds. No heartbeats. No sacs this time. We scheduled the D and C for August 8th.

And that was that.

It just wasn’t meant to be. Those weren’t our babies.  I got really depressed for a while — like, a good four-ish months. I do still cry sometimes. I’m tearing just writing “those weren’t our babies.” I had wanted this so badly. Even through the fear and doubt, I wanted this. I want this; motherhood. I want a relationship with our little boy or girl who is going to challenge me every day to be a better person. Who will love me no matter what, just the way I know my parents love me. I want our own little family. One that is made up of all of the good parts of both Chris and myself. But everything about that pregnancy wasn’t right. Not the way it happened, or how we reacted to it, or how it felt, or how I told my mom. None of it was ever right.

But what caused this? And that’s what I can’t stop thinking about every single day since. It’s what fuels me to write again. To hash all of this out. What did I do wrong? Were those cramps normal? Is it because I’m obese? Did we wait too long to go to the doctor? Should I have started my vitamins sooner? Is it because I was stressed out about how we were going to pay for it? Was it because I ate a McFlurry and got listeria? Was it because we responded badly? And also, why not me? We did everything right. We dated for years before we moved in together and got married, we have great jobs, a house, nice cars, loving families. Why not us? Chris will be the best dad. I’ll be an okay mom, but Chris! Will be the best dad. Why not us?

It will be us. Somehow. Someway. Someday. It will be us.

My Next Post: PCOS

NOTE II: Chris is fully aware of this blog and all details there within. I would not post without his approval.

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