backwards announcement | i was pregnant

On Thanksgiving – of all days – I decided to take a pregnancy test. I wasn’t displaying any symptoms, but my period was late, and even though I anticipated a negative result, I wanted to get the official green light before partaking in all of the wine the holidays typically bring the Golz family.

The test came back positive. I was pregnant. Whoa.

I debated between running up the stairs, waking up Matt and throwing the test in his sleepy face, but then I decided to plan a more creative way to tell him we were expecting our first child and that he was going to be a daddy. I decided to wait until I had a doctor’s confirmation and then I would surprise him with an early Christmas gift of Daddy-to-be essentials.

Unfortunately for me, it was a holiday and then the weekend, so I had to wait until the following Monday to make an appointment. On Sunday, I took another home pregnancy test just to be sure…I was still pregnant.

I spent that whole weekend in a mixed state of disbelief and excitement, stealing glances at the test every chance I could. Maybe I thought the test would change its mind and randomly decide that it had made a mistake. After all, Matt and I had just started “trying.” I had literally just stopped taking the pill that month and hadn’t even had my first pill-free cycle yet. How could it possibly be that easy?!

I tried to keep busy, so I finished decorating the house with Christmas décor and took some photos of my work to post online. Later that afternoon, Matt asked if he could look at the photos on the camera. I knew letting him see them meant my “Daddy-to-be surprise” would be altered because I had also taken a picture of the positive pregnancy test earlier that day. However, seeing no other logical reason to say “no” I decided to roll with it and let him find out this way instead.

It was priceless. When he arrived at the photo, he froze for a moment and then looked at me in disbelief and said, a few times, “Really?!” When I nodded my head to confirm, he got tears in his eyes and gave me a big hug.

We decided to wait and tell our families when they were here over Christmas. It was so hard keeping the news from them for an entire month, but we knew we would treasure seeing their reactions in person.

During that month, I spent a lot of time getting blood tests and ultrasounds to check the viability of the pregnancy. When I was about 6-7 weeks along, I received a call from my doctor informing me that my hormone levels were not as high as they’d like and my pregnancy would likely result in an early miscarriage.

I was heartbroken. Granted, I knew that 40% of all conceptions result in a miscarriage and, of those, 80% within the first trimester. I also knew that this was usually nature’s way of getting rid of ones that were genetically deformed, or more likely that there was never really an actual fetus growing to begin with. But it didn’t make it any easier. Without knowing it, I had fallen in love with this pregnancy – with the idea of a baby; the dream of it and having it in my life forever. To have that taken away from you is a feeling nobody can understand unless they, too, have been in that situation.

Of course, there was still hope and we were hanging onto that with everything we had. We were on an emotional roller coaster. They checked my hormones through blood tests every 48 hours. While my hormone levels weren’t rising as quickly as usual, they were still increasing and that was a positive sign. My doctor decided to schedule an initial ultrasound to correlate with my 8 week check-up.

Here, they were able to see “something” in the uterus, but were not certain if it was actually a fetus, or just a blood sac. My doctor told us she was 90% certain that there was nothing there, but sent me to the hospital for an early pregnancy ultrasound to confirm.

The ultrasound determined that were was a fetus and that it measured 6 weeks 1 day. It just wasn’t as far along as the doctor thought. However, it was still too small to see a heartbeat, so (once again) they were unable to actually confirm if this pregnancy was viable, or if it would inevitably result in a miscarriage. They scheduled another ultrasound for a week later and by that time the fetus would either still be developing and therefore be big enough to see a heartbeat, or we would know that it was no longer developing.

After another dreadfully long week, it was the morning of the ultrasound – December 21^st. I was so nervous. And scared. I so badly wanted the ultrasound to reveal a healthy baby to me, but was so uncertain if it would.

They request that you arrive with a full bladder in order to get the best picture. For a pregnant woman, this is not a difficult task, but what is difficult is keeping it full when all you really want to do is find the closest restroom. I found myself giving death stares to people’s backs as they entered the restroom to empty their own bladder. Luckily (and unluckily) I was focusing so hard on not peeing my pants that I forgot to be nervous for the ultrasound…until they called my name and I was lying on the table with warm goo on my belly. At that point, all those fears and pleas to God came rushing right back.

I wasn’t able to view the monitor, so I found myself studying the technicians face for any clues as to what she might be seeing. Was it good news or bad?! I gasped when she said, “I see a heartbeat of 120 beats per minute.” But then I realized I needed confirmation that she was referring to my baby’s heart and not my own. I asked her, she smiled, said “the baby’s,” and I started to cry. My baby had a heartbeat – a good one – and then she turned the monitor, so that Matt and I could see it for ourselves! I could have watched that little flicker all day.

I carried around that little sonogram photo for the rest of the day, blissfully happy. It was my reminder – my proof – that there was still a baby growing inside me and it had a heartbeat.

Matt and I bought these cute sonogram picture frames and filled them with copies of the ultrasound photo. Then we wrapped them and gave them out to our family as early Christmas gifts when they arrived the next day. We also had the foresight to capture the unwrapping (and announcing) with our video camera, which was hidden in the corner. Another priceless moment.

This Thursday we went in for another ultrasound – this time for our “real” 8-week checkup. Once again, I was nervous. Over the last two weeks, the natural high I was on from seeing the baby’s heartbeat had diminished, and I had been left  fighting back eerie feelings that all of this – the lack of symptoms, the ease of conception, everything – was too good to be true. My suspicions were proven true. Our baby’s heartbeat was gone and it was still measuring at the 6 week mark – 6 weeks and 3 days. There had been no growth for the past 2 weeks. We finally had our answer. There would be no August birthday. Instead, our baby was dead and I was going to have a miscarriage.

The doctor gave me some medicine that would help start the process, along with Ibuprofen and Vicodin for the pain, but apparently my body was ready and didn’t need coaxing. I started the miscarriage, naturally, later that same afternoon and it picked up steam throughout the evening. I expected the blood. I expected an element of painful cramping. But I did not expect the intensity of the pain. It was overwhelming and constant. The painkillers did nothing to remedy it. Somehow I was able to fall asleep. When I woke up the next morning, I went to the bathroom and the “mass” passed. There was still mild cramping, but nothing compared to the night before. The worst was over. Or at least I thought it was. That is, until this morning when I woke with the painful cramps once again. Now I just hope that it’s almost over, but I’m scared that it’s not. I’m scared that this can somehow get worse.

For Christmas, Matt Baby had given me a wonderful present…a necklace with a heart-shaped Peridot pendant – the August birthstone. It is subtle and it’s beautiful. It started out as a constant reminder of Baby’s presence within me and that Baby was already giving me everything it had – its heart. Now I wear it proudly as my reminder of a little life and an exponentially larger loss.

Matt and I are doing OK. I think we were both more prepared for it than we consciously knew and we are taking comfort in our faith, trusting that God has a plan and, no matter how much it hurts, this was part of it…for it has changed us in many ways. It is making us better people. It has made us realize how much we want children – what a precious gift they are – and how important family truly is.

I know there are people out there, who may judge me for broadcasting this difficult time over the blogosphere. But to me, it’s an important part of the process. I was proud of this pregnancy. I don’t want to grieve silently while outwardly pretending nothing happened. I want the world to know that I was pregnant, that this baby was with me even if it was only for a short time. This is my way of validating this pregnancy…of acknowleging this baby.

The truth is, until you have been in this situation – and I hope none of you ever are – you may never truly understand. And that’s OK. So, to those people, I stand strong, without regret, and simply say “judge away.”

<jenna>

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