Halfway There & Back Story

Today marks the beginning of the second half of my pregnancy and also the time in which I think I need to address why this is all the more exciting for us and how we've gotten to this point.

(*note this will be a long one so if you get through it I applaud and thank you)

My husband, Brian, and I always said, from the moment we started dating that we didn't want children, much to the chagrin of our families. At that time my husband was in a successfully touring band (check them out: Jon Frederik Band) and was touring up and down the east coast. They had dreams of this being a life-long career and for a long while it seemed as though it would happen. Given that possibility we decided it would be incredibly hard to have children if their father was always going to be on the road. Fast-forward five years, Brian's band had broken up, we were married and happily living a carefree existence. It was at that point that I started my competitive bodybuilding training. By then we'd both said that being the "cool" aunt and uncle was enough for us and we didn't need/want to have our own children. That we'd rather spend our time and money traveling the world and having all sorts of adventures. We'd been together 6 years at that point and were confident in our choice. Our families tried to talk us out of it more than once, telling us we'd miss out on so much, but we held firm. (if you know us, you know how stubborn we can be)

In November 2011 my husband's aunt passed away very tragically and suddenly from a rare form of cancer. She was a force to be reckoned with - the type of woman that always put her family (especially her children) first and would protect her own with everything she had. She was loud and boisterous - my kind of lady; and we loved her very much. Her passing brought out so many emotions in Brian and me regarding family and what it meant to grow old. At the time of her death, Brian's cousin (his aunt's daughter) was nearing the end of her first pregnancy and to think of her having to go through her shower, labor and the birth of her first child (among so many other milestones) without her mother was truly heartbreaking to me. At her funeral, her son spoke and referred more than once to the wonderful mother and grandmother she was. Listening to him talk it was as if a light went off in my head, as horribly painful as it was to say good-bye to this amazing woman, as I sat there and looked around, I realized she wasn't alone. So many people loved her and she left behind a legacy of children and grandchildren that would grow up knowing how much she loved them in return.

When we got home that evening Brian turned to me and said "I think I'd like to have a baby" - I started to laugh. At first he was angry, then confused. It wasn't until I explained that I was laughing because I was thinking the same thing that he understood. He told me that he'd been thinking about it the last year or so, but because of my training he didn't want to say anything. He was afraid I would say I still didn't want children. If you've never had an epiphany before, let me tell you, it's something out of a movie. It really was as if the clouds parted and we could see life more clearly. We did want children of our own, we wanted the diapers and the mid-night feedings, we wanted the skinned knees and temper tantrums of a toddler, we wanted the joys and heartbreak of a teenager and we most definitely wanted the grandchildren and great-grandchildren later in life.

I spoke with my primary care physician the very next day and she instructed me to finish out my birth control that month (which worked out quite conveniently) and to begin taking a pre-natal vitamin. She assured me that nature would take its course and that we weren't to worry if it didn't happen right away - that we really needed to give it a full year before she'd intervene.

By July of the following year after months of trying - charting, temping (you name it), nothing was happening. I began to get very frustrated and while it had been a relatively short time, I did what I know many women before me have done ... I lied. I told my OB/GYN that we'd been trying for a year and that it just wasn't working. After showing him all my charts he figured out that more than likely I wasn't ovulating (my cycles were anywhere from 28 to 96 days long) - it's no wonder I wasn't pregnant yet. He prescribed me Clomiphene (Clomid) in the hopes that it would help in our efforts. He prescribed it to me for three months and said if I wasn't pregnant after the third month that we'd have to start looking at other possibilities and options.

Three months later, on a cold Sunday - October 7th to be exact - I woke up and remembered that as of that day I was officially a week late. I had been counting the days up until then hoping and praying Aunt Flow would stay away and she had! I literally ran to the bathroom and took a test - it didn't even take 3 minutes for it to register POSITIVE! I began screaming and crying and dancing around the house only to realize I didn't have anyone to share the news with. Brian was working and there was no way I was telling him this over the phone. I waited anxiously for the next 12 hours for him to get home and when he finally did I could barely contain myself. I showed him the test to which he replied "Really? How many did you take? You're lying! You drew the line on there! OMG! Seriously?" ... he was clearly as surprised (and excited) as I was.

At first we were going to keep it a secret for a while, but I was going on vacation with my mother-in-law the following Monday and I knew she'd figure it out if we didn't tell our families ahead of time. We told both sets of parents the very next night and they were overjoyed for us (and them). It was going to be the first grandchild on Brian's side and the second on mine (my older sister had just announced her own pregnancy earlier that summer). We immediately began talking about names, the nursery, the registry all things baby. It was what we'd been wanting for so long and it was finally here.

The following Sunday, October 14th, I was watching the Patriot's game with my parents and some family friends when I started cramping. I tried to ignore it but as the night went on the cramping got worse and I started to bleed. I called my sister, Sarah, in a panic who told me I needed to talk to my OB/GYN (I had switched practices at this point). When I spoke to my doctor she instructed me to head to the nearest emergency room for an ultrasound and blood work. Brian was at work so my mother went with me and held my hand as they did a blood pregnancy test and an ultrasound. It seemed to take forever before the ER doctor arrived. He informed me that based on my HCG levels and the ultrasound that I was 3 weeks along. I knew immediately that something was very wrong. Based on my last period and the timing of my positive test, I should have been 6 weeks pregnant at that time. But he insisted that everything looked fine and I should just try to get some rest. Brian was there by then and he held my hand and told me everything would be ok. We asked the doctor if it would be ok for me to travel and he again said "yes" as long as I took it easy while I was away.

The next morning I left with my mother-in-law to fly to Florida for a four day cruise. I couldn't wait to get out of the frigid New England temperature and into the warm weather and relax. Brian thought it would be the best thing for me, it would help me take my mind off being scared and I would get to be away from all the everyday stresses of life. We arrived in Florida mid-morning and immediately boarded the ship. We took a quick walk around to get the lay of the land before stopping for lunch. It was then that the cramping began again with a vengence. I went to the bathroom and couldn't believe my eyes. The bleeding had started again but this time a thin maxi pad wasn't going to be enough. With tears in my eyes I called Brian who insisted I call the doctor. After speaking with my doctor (who had yet to receive the report from my ER trip) and telling her what the ultrasound tech and the ER doctor had said; she told me I needed to get off the boat and go to the nearest emergency room as quickly as possible. She said she couldn't believe the doctor in MA could have said everything was fine when clearly "something is terribly wrong".

I have to stop for a minute and praise Royal Caribbean cruises. The ship was scheduled to leave port only 30 minutes later and they took the time to locate the suite manager and stewards to locate our luggage, call the ambulance and make sure I was ok. They never once made me feel like an inconvenience and they assured me they had our best interests at heart. I will be forever grateful to them for taking the time to make sure we were able to get off the ship as quickly and safely as possible.
We were transported to the nearest hospital in Florida where they performed more blood work. I declined another ultrasound as I knew they wouldn't see anymore than the tech had the night before - looking back I wish I'd let them. After a few hours of waiting (and many tearful phone calls home) the doctor came in with his results. He indicated that my HCG levels did in fact indicate that I was pregnant but that what was happening was one of three things:

1) The pregnancy was still viable just "younger" than we originally though (he said this was highly unlikely in his opinion)
2) That because of what my HCG levels were, that I was in fact miscarrying and the reason they were still registering that I was pregnant was because I was still in the midst of the miscarriage (this was the most likely scenario)
3) The pregnancy was ectopic and I needed to get back to Boston as quickly as I could (unlikely but possible)

After a ton of scrambling and some panicking my mother-in-law and I were able to fly home to Boston the next morning. At the instruction of my doctor I continued to get blood drawn for the next 72 hours to see what my levels were doing. By then we were hoping (sadly) that they would be dropping toward 0 indicating a completed miscarriage.

I had my last round of blood drawn on Thursday, October 18th and anxiously awaited the results from my doctor. The bleeding had stopped completely the day before so I was convinced it was over. I had spent the last few days crying and being angry but that morning I knew I needed to start the grieving process. Brian was amazing during that time, letting me cry when I needed too and just holding me when I couldn't breathe. We were both in such a state of shock - just a week before we'd been planning our child's arrival and now we were dealing with a loss.

People that have never suffered a miscarriage or known someone that has can never really fully comprehend the feeling of loss you go through. It doesn't matter if you're 5 minutes, 5 weeks or 5 months pregnant - once you have made that connection with your child, losing it at any point is the most difficult thing to deal with. You feel angry, depressed, sad, hurt and you blame yourself. It's a silent pain; people don't really talk about miscarriage especially early on. Most women don't announce their pregnancy until 12 weeks so to lose a baby prior to that doesn't give you much in terms of emotional support in a larger circle. I found myself having to say "Yay! We were pregnant but now we're not" ... try that one out... it sucks.

On Sunday, October 21st I still hadn't heard from my doctor, but assumed that just meant that our suspicions were right. I knew she would probably call me the next day so I went about my life the best I could. Brian and I met in Cambridge for dinner that evening to watch the Patriot's game and try to have a good time. About halfway through dinner I got a pain in my abdomen like I had never felt before. It literally felt as if someone was stabbing me repeatedly with a steak knife. I excused myself to the bathroom expecting to throw up (hoping to throw up) so the pain would go away. After five minutes I knew that wasn't happening. I could barely stand up straight and Brian literally had to support me as we paid for our half eaten meals and left the restaurant. We went back to his office (he was working late) and I lay on the floor while he finished up his work. Within minutes I was curled up in such excruiating pain, I couldn't move and I could barely speak. I was sobbing and barely had the energy to call my doctor. She apologized a million times for not getting back to me with my results - there had been a mix up with the file - but that I needed to get to the emergency room immediately, she would meet us there. I texted Sarah (who lived in Boston at the time) to tell her what was going on and she insisted on meeting us there.

By the time we got to the hospital the pain was so bad that they administered me morphine but even that wasn't helping. I was wheeled in for yet another ultrasound and instantly the tech knew what was going on. My doctor told me what we'd been fearing, that I was having another miscarriage but that this one was ectopic. It appears I had been pregnant with fraternal twins (one of the potential side effects of clomid) and that I had experienced a Heterotopic Pregnancy. I did in fact miscarry the first naturally but somehow the tech at the first hospital missed the growing ectopic pregnancy. This baby had continued to grow for another week making it just large enough to cause severe damage to my left Fallopian Tube. The doctor told me that I needed emergency surgery to remove the pregnancy and ultimately safe my life from internal bleeding (the cause of the pain). I was taken to the operating room minutes later and when I woke up I was told the had to remove my entire left tube because of the damage. She told us that had the original doctor caught the ectopic that we could most likely have avoided surgery and saved my tube. To say I was angry was an understatement. I didn't (and still don't) understand how someone whose job it is to read ultrasounds could have missed something so potentially dangerous.

After my surgery I plunged into a very deep depression. It didn't matter that my doctor said I could still carry a baby, or that I was "lucky" - all that matters was I had lost not one but both of my babies and the second in such a dramatic way. I spent weeks blaming myself but mostly the doctor who missed it. Looking back now I know even if he had caught it I still would have lost them both and that's something entirely different.

I am blessed to have such a supportive circle around me - Sarah was truly my rock during the whole ordeal. Because Brian was going through it too (albeit differently) she was there to hold my hand, listen to me vent and dry my tears. Somehow she knew exactly what the say and when to say it. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank her for everything she did for me. Brian, like most men, grieved in his own way - silently and privately. He chose not to talk about it and I don't blame him. Talking about it wasn't going to change what happened and it wasn't going to bring our babies back.

I honestly didn't know how long it would take for me to be "ok" with everything and to be honest I still don't think I am. While I can't wait to hold this little one and raise it and give it all the love I possibly can, I still have angry days. Days when I'm mad and wonder what I could have done differently. But in the end I remind myself that as cliche as it sounds I do believe everything happens for a reason. God didn't want those babies living in this world for reasons we'll never know, but what I do know is that now our family has two beautiful guardian angels watching over us.

After my post-op follow up my doctor told us that I would be able to conceive again but that it might take a while and that ultimately we may need help. As much as the latter was not what we wants to hear at least we could be hopeful that someday we'd have a baby of our own!

So it was very much to our surprise and joy that we found out on January 2nd that I was once again pregnant! Just three short months after my surgery and we were expecting again. When I called my doctor she was thrilled - I think she might have even cried for us! I immediately began blood work and ultrasounds to make sure that everything was in the right place and happening on schedule. Sure enough our Miracle Baby was precisely where it was supposed to be and when we saw the heartbeat on the screen for the first time neither of us could hold back our emotions.

Since then, and really up to now, we've been cautious with what we share and with whom. In the beginning it was the fear of sharing our joy only to have to go through a loss again. Then it became something so special to us that we wanted to keep it private - just with family. Now that we are officially "out" - its hard to deny it with the bump I'm sporting - I feel better. Each day that goes by is one day closer to my due date - one more day that my baby grows stronger - one more day that my heart grows bigger.

I have been appreciating everything that has come along with this pregnancy - early term nausea, exhaustion, food cravings/aversions, weight gain ... All of it. Some of it isn't fun but its all part of the process and I wouldn't change it for anything. To know I'm carrying a child that Brian and I created after the pain we went through is something I can't explain. The journal I've been keeping is something I cherish deeply and I hope the nugget will appreciate it just as much when he/she grows up.

Now that I'm turning the page into the second half of my pregnancy I am starting to once again plan all those things we did way too early the first time. We've picked 6 names (no we aren't telling), chosen our nursery theme (not kitschy) and started our registry (just barely). The next 20 weeks are going to bring so much excitement and joy (along with the expected pregnancy pains and gains) and I can not wait for every single thing!

We will welcome our Miracle on (or around) September 11, 2013 into a family full of love and laughter - right where he/she is meant to be.