And here I am again…

Posted on Posted in Uncategorized 123 Comments

I was keeping a wonderful secret from you for a while. I was pregnant again, and in a few more days there would have been a sonogram at 8.5 weeks, and we would have found a lovely, healthy fetus with a strong heartbeat and that’s when I was going to tell you. Except it didn’t go that way, again.

I had another miscarriage on Thursday, at 7.5 weeks pregnant. That makes three miscarriages in ten months, for those of you playing along at home. (Two spontaneous abortions and one chemical pregnancy, for those of you playing with the Advanced Medical Lingo board.) Spotting started Wednesday afternoon, got a bit heavier on Thursday morning, and Thursday afternoon found Billy and me at the doctor’s office, getting that much-anticipated sonogram a week early and finding no heartbeat.

My baby died. Another baby dead.

Since Thursday, the bleeding has picked up pace. No great, crushing contraction followed by an expulsion like the first miscarriage. No sad, pedestrian period like the second one, at just four weeks pregnant. It’s like my body was waiting for that dead-still sonogram before it let go. The spotting to hint at what was to come, and only now, days later, is it giving that baby over. I passed what must have been the sac, or a large part of it, this evening and couldn’t help but touch it. It was translucent and rubbery and surprisingly strong. Like the membrane in a chicken’s egg but much stronger. The baby would have grown in there. Strange to hold it, touch it. I thought I should bury it, but I ended up dropping it into the toilet and flushing it away. There was no identifiable tissue with it. I looked. Is this too much information? Probably. I’m beyond caring. I have to write this. Look away, if you need to.

I’m fucking angry. And sad as hell. We’ve already done a shitload of tests that all came back normal. On Thursday they drew six more vials of blood to test for more obscure stuff. The OB says it’s time to see a specialist, but I’m not sure how much farther we want to take this thing. I think I might want to get off the ride. Enough loss, you know? Enough blood. Enough with the dead babies. We’re taking the summer off. I know that much. If August ends and I feel up to it, then we’ll see what the Reproductive Endocrinologist has to say, beyond, “We have no idea why this is happening.”

August is far away, for now. Right now I’m going to mourn this baby. And then I’m going to work in the garden and write my ass off and hang out with Billy and Thumper, and love my two guys, our little family of three, as hard as I can. I’m going to try to let that be enough.

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123 Comments on “And here I am again…”

  1. Mourn. Your way, in your time.
    And from afar, we will mourn alongside you and keep you all close in our thoughts and hearts too.

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  7. I had a feeling you were pregnant and I’m so sorry you had a miscarriage. You are a strong woman and I know you’ll trust your heart to do what’s right for your family. Take your time and mourn and move forward at your own pace.

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  10. Oh, I am so sorry. I took that roller coaster ride 5 times before I decided to get off. You are wise to take time to mourn and heal and celebrate your life as it is. Decisions about the future can come later, in the future. My thoughts are with you.

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  12. You have to be so strong to have already endured what you’ve gone through. I think it’s so healthy to recognize that each one is a loss.

    You are very lucky to have Thumper and Billy, and who knows what your future holds.

    Hugs and stay strong.

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  14. I am so SO sorry that you are going through this again. Absolutely take all the time you and Billy need to come to the decision that works best for your family.
    You are in my thoughts.

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  16. I love you so much. You have the strength of many Russias, the heart of many mothers, the eyes of Galileo and van Leeuwenhoek. You know too much, and you don’t refuse it. I can only wish you peace.

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  17. Wow – what a devastating blow to you and your family. Yet you can rest in the arms of your two men that you’ve been blessed with.
    Know that we are all thinking of you and praying for peace, comfort, and love to envelop you.

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  24. I’m so sorry. That just sucks. Take all the time you need–mourn and heal in your own time. Enjoy the company of your guys. And if some handspun yarn will make you feel a little better (I know it can’t fix everything, but it can help sometimes) email me a mailing address, and I’ll pop some in the mail for you.

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  30. My wife and I went through this several times before we had our first and a few more times before the second came along. I’m very sorry. Here I am, a grown man, sitting in front of the computer with tears in my eyes. All I can really offer is my hope that you’ll write about it because what you produce from this will, without a doubt, be wildly powerful.

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  39. Cari, I am so very sorry. I can’t imagine your pain and I hope that the grieving and pain eases soon and you are able to make a decision about future attempts with a clear mind and a healing heart.

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  41. Oh damn. And I was going to suggest taking time off from it for a while, but you’re already there. Damn damn damn. Sorry, honey.

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  44. No, it’s not too much information. Today’s NYTimes magazine reported that Yoko Ono had three miscarriages before she and John had Sean. I hadn’t known that.

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  45. Hugs from the opposite corner of the country. So sad for you and your family. Sending healing thoughts your way.

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  46. Cari – I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say other than that. I just wish I had a magic wand for you that would not only heal the hurt but make everything work the way it should.

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  48. This is my first visit to your blog. It is not too much information. It is sharing with a community of women who care about each other. I will send up my prayers and hopes for you and your family and I wish you all the best.

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  56. Oh sweetie. I am so deeply sad for you and thinking of you and yours. I wish things were different. Sending you lots of love.

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  58. Cari,
    a virtual hug for you. I hope you can heal some and if writing does it, I-we-are here to read and mourn with you. That is what friends are for, virtual or not.
    I hope peace for you.

    Maxly

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  59. So sorry to read this. My heart broke for you the first two times, and continues again. Take care of yourself and know that there are a lot of us praying for you, whatever comfort that may be.

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  62. Cari, there are no words that will comfort your loss. I pray that you are given peace and in the mysterious way of life find joy. I am so sorry for your loss.

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  63. oh. no.
    3 times in a lifetime is too much. In 10 months is plain cruel.

    I hope you are enjoying the sunshine and a bed to sleep in, and the knowledge that this pain, like all others will pass and leave you a little changed but more yourself.

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  64. I hope you find rest and some peace with your family. I am sorry for your loss and will send healing and caring thoughts your way.

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  67. Oh, Cari. this sucks beyond belief. My heart goes out to you. and it wasn’t too much info. I did the same thing. Be gentle with yourself. this isn’t anyone’s fault. Much love to you.

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  69. Oh, such sad news on top of sad news on top of sad news. Our thoughts are with you, and I’m glad that you’re taking a break. It sounds like the best thing to do in a horrible situation.

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  70. I’m so sorry you had to go through this again. The unexplained must make it even more difficult. I hope you find some answers in the future. Thinking of you.

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  72. I almost never comment, though I read you regularly.

    I cannot tell you I know what you’re feeling, or to hang on to hope. I can tell you that I’ve been (am) in a parallel dimension to yours, and I’m familiar with some of the topography.

    I would consider seeing an endocrinologist. You must, of course, draw your own line when it comes to how far you want to pursue things. But there could be a fairly simple explanation, with an equally straightforward solution. I wish you strength and peace.

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  74. Someone recently shared there philosophy with me. “Life is wonderful, even when it’s not.” I hope you will continue to find joy–in your garden, with your family, and especially this summer.

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  75. Oh Cari, I am so sorry. All I can say is that I have been there, too. Be angry, be sad and love your boys with all your might. And let yourself rest. Wishing you peace.

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  78. Oh my god. I’m heartbroken for you. That’s a lot to live through. One loss feels like too much.

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  81. I’m so sorry to hear your sad news. I live in Brooklyn and think of you often (although I don’t even know you).

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  82. Oh boy, what a blow! My heart aches for you, I feel your sadness through your words. you are right to go forward, as that our only choice. And love your beautiful son.

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  84. I’m so very sorry.
    As a veteran of years and years and years of (unsuccessful) fertility treatments, the one thing I do understand is that there’s nothing anyone can say to make it feel better.
    Oh, and that well-meaning advice almost always makes it feel worse. And that talking about it sometimes helps, briefly. And sometimes doesn’t.
    Big hugs.

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  87. So sorry to read of your disappointment and sadness.
    Prof. Regan, in the U.K., runs a recurring miscarriage clinic. Here’s a link :
    http://www.bbc.co.uk/sn/tvradio/programmes/horizon/heartbeat.shtml
    One of the things they test for is anti-phospholipid antibodies. Affects blood clotting. My son was the result of my 9th pregnancy. Most of the others ended early, some mid-term. As soon as my I tested positive, before my period was due ! , I was prescribed Claxane. It’s similar in effect to Heparin. I then took low dose aspirin.
    One of the many things to explore.

    I wish you luck, love and peace, whichever course you decide to take.

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  89. Aw. Crap. Been there. Felt crappy too. Goes right to the core of your being. Don’t blame you one bit for wanting to get off the ride.

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  91. I’m so sorry, Cari. Do whatever you feel is the right thing for you. And if you choose to share it, we’ll be here reading. I’m fucking angry for you as well.

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  92. Oh, Cari. I am so sorry that you have to go through this again. I’ll be thinking of you. Big, warm hugs you to, Billy and Thumper.

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  97. DAMN IT. I have been thinking about you guys, and was so hoping you would never have to go through this again. I’m so sorry. There’s nothing good to say. Here is another book/website that may be helpful when you look into things further again.

    http://www.amazon.com/Wise-Woman-Herbal-Childbearing-Year/dp/0961462000/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242779602&sr=8-1

    http://www.wisewomantradition.com/childbearingyear/

    I know it doesn’t help right now. This just happened to a close friend of mine as well. What a bitter, rotten disappointment.

    Reply

  101. I’m so sorry to hear this. One is really hard, but three in less than a year seems too cruel. I think taking a breather is a good idea. Let yourself grieve and let the summer wind and sun soothe you. Know that there are many people thinking of you and wishing you peace.

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  103. Oh, such sad news — you must be feeling heartbroken. I wish there was something I could say to help, but I only really have sympathy.

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  105. I am really sorry to hear this and just wanted to send you my love. Write whatever you feel you need to.

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  106. Dear Cara,
    As one of your faithful bloggies (reader). I would like to express my heart felt condolances to you. Take care of yourself and your family; Garden, make blue pancakes, write and knit up something fun.
    Sincerely,
    Ilona

    Reply

  107. Damn. I’d guessed you were pregnant but felt I shouldn’t ask until you were ready to tell. I’m sorry you have to keep telling us the same sad news. Big love to you (all three) as always.

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  109. i just finished a book unspeakable losses which has given me a lot to think about — this was not too much information — i am again working through something similar though it happened almost 19 yrs ago…thank you for being you and i am sorry for your losses…

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  111. I’m just now seeing this post. EEEK!

    Goddam it all–you should not have to endure this again. *squishes you*

    I’m always here if you need to chat or scream or whatever. Or if you want to be distracted by writing I can fling things at you and you can fling things at me and we’ll just lose ourselves in our work.

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  112. Oh lamb, I am so sorry. As someone who suffered many small miscarriages (and then one at nearly 4 months), I know how devastating this feels. I don’t have any advice except that writing about it is very brave and probably will help, as will knowing how loved you are.Carolne L.

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  113. I’m sorry I’m coming in so late with this, but I am truly sorry for your loss. You are all in my thoughts and I will say a prayer for all of you.

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  118. Oh Cari I’m so sorry.

    It’s not fair, especially if the reason is still : Unexplained Infertility

    You want to know why so you can try to fix it. But sometimes it’s just not possible, as hard as that is to bear.

    You are in my thoughts.

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  120. I’m so very, very sorry to read of your loss and, unfortunately, know exactly what you’re going through. I’ve had multiple miscarriages, and have not yet succeeded in carrying to term.

    I think it’s unfortunate to have a ‘veil of secrecy’ during the first trimester — I, for one, have benefited from the support of close friends and family during this time.

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  122. So sorry to read of your loss. I did the same thing last year (poled eggs x3 at 12, 14 & 16 weeks followed by D&C’s each time) and decided, obviously, we were not destined to have another child. Turned up 5 months pregnant 10 months later while taking generic BC. Go figure. Take the summer off and think about it again later.

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  123. Recurrent miscarriages aren’t easy; pregnancies 4, miscarriages 2, daughters 2; bled through all 4. Being a GP, if anything, made it harder not easier as some colleagues assumed I’d be OK without the ‘usual’ counselling.
    Trying to carry a pregnancy through to term or, sometimes even trying to conceive is difficult for both partners. You need to grieve, recover and then decide what to do next, as a family.
    I have two beautiful daughters, one 13 the other 9. If I hadn’t had the miscarriages I wouldn’t have Rebecca; my beautiful, funny, scarily bright daughter.
    Do seek advice and then decide; don’t make any snap decisions now that you may regret later.

    Reply

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