I struggle to try to explain what it feels like to be pregnant after suffering through so many early pregnancy miscarriages to try to explain to my husband, my friends, the doctors, the nurses, our families etc why I am not smiling ear to ear, why I’m daily shocked to still be pregnant and why I honestly don’t believe this pregnancy will go to term.
Maybe perhaps had I only lost Ava-and this was my next pregnancy after, or maybe if I only miscarried once after Ava and this was my third pregnancy that this would be a very different.
Only it’s not. There was a long pause and you could hear the level of seriousness in the nurse’s voice when I answered “this is my 7th pregnancy, I have no living children” to her very routine question of how many children do you have-her response “oh…boy…this is going to be…interesting.”
I feel like a ticking time bomb or better yet, a super saturated solution-like a high school science experiment. I have heated up a cup of water to boiling and have slowly dissolved what seems to be impossible amounts of sugar in it-and yet the liquid is somehow perfectly translucent with everything fully dissolved in it and then let it cool. There it sits-as long as nothing is ever added-it will remain a perfectly clear liquid. But drop one little thing in there and then BLAMO everything seizes up turning the entire beaker into an opaque crystaline mess.
That is what alloimmune recurrent pregnancy loss is like-you never know when your super saturated body will decide its no longer able to maintain that translucent perfect solution to keep your baby alive, regardless of all the drugs you are on, and then BLAMO your baby is dead. Every day. There will never be a “safe” point in this pregnancy.
No seeing a heart beating relief.
No Nuchal first look perfect test results relief.
No AFP triple screen test results relief.
No Anatomy Scan at 20 weeks relief.
No viability relief.
Because the plain and simple truth is that each and every day, I’m not worried that there is something wrong with *him*- I am petrified that my body is going to up and change its mind, perhaps somehow break through all of the meds and then go ahead and attack him. Never will there be a point in the 40 weeks of gestation that my body can’t snuff out this pregnancy. Never will there be a day that I won’t wake up and wonder if it has already happened.
This damage runs FAAAARRRR deeper than I could have ever imagined.
Becoming Parents 
I know you have no idea who I am, just kinda stumbled across your blog but I wanted to let you know from my perspective It never gets easier. There will always be something you will worry about when it comes to pregnancy and beyond, and the old “take it one day at a time” offers little support. This is what motherhood does to you and make no mistake you have been a mother for quite some time.
Completely understandable why you’re worried. I was a mess and I had nowhere near 7 losses. I am so thankful for each day that you are still not not pregnant – because it is one step closer to the take home baby you’ve put so much blood, sweat, and tears into. XOXO
You experience the stress and worry of pregnancy to a whole new degree (a few log scales even). Don’t ever let anyone discount your worry, I hate it when people do that; your worry is so valid. Not like I am a great example here b/c it is hard for me to listen to my own advice, but *try* to own your fear and then live with it for what it is (which, from this post, totally sounds like you are) and *keep moving*. Don’t let it paralyze you (or at least paralyze you all the time). You already know this, but stress hormones are bad. Is there anything that helps you laugh or makes you feel you for a few moments? (for me, it is my husband telling an awful joke, or losing myself in a stupid novel) Do it 🙂 It is so hard to live the things we cannot control. Try to control anything else you can, for me, that is cleaning the house and obsessively organizing paperwork.
What a most elegant post. Just the perfect metaphor, precisely considered, heart-breakingly executed. It sounds like PTSD from a war fought by one, lived by two, and witnessed by a handful. I’m not sure even god himself, should he/she even exist, could relieve you of this worry and this burden. And yes, even in the face of all this seriousness, all I can think to quote is a cat poster: Hang In There! (headsmack) Keep telling your story, keep walking. If anyone can do it, you can MommaB.
My heart aches for you, for the pain, the worry, and the impossibility you describe of *ever* feeling “safe” in this pregnancy. Reading your post, I felt like I understood, as much as one can without walking in your shoes, exactly how deep the damage runs and how heavy the worry is. Reading this made me want to lift your burden and carry it for you for a while, even though I know no one can do that. All I can do is hold you in my heart and send some virtual (((hugs))).
I agree with C, I think after all you’ve been through you’re dealing with a severe form of PTSD. And based on where you’re at, it’s completely understandable that you’re so cautious. Thank you for sharing this; I think so few people actually put together the fact that pregnancy doesn’t automatically equal baby. Because of this, so many suffer in silence as everyone is badgering them about how happy they should be.
BTW: I’ve given you an award on my blog. If you’re seeking distraction, come check it out.
I cannot even begin to imagine how stressful and scary must be to you. All I can do is send you a hug and “hang-in-there” thoughts and fingers crossed as hard as they can be for this pregnancy to work out.
(((Hugs))) I can only imagine your stress and worry. I was a mess. …and often still am. In fact, I was *more* stressed after C was born. I truly did not believe I was going to get to keep him. I used to weigh him multiple times per day just to make sure he was still gaining weight… I wish you didn’t have to bear this burden. I’m so glad you’re not not-pregnant too!
Thanks for your comment on my blog. I can’t imagine how stressed you must be. I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you and hoping for the best. RPL is so difficult to deal with.
Brooke, I wish that I could wipe the slate clean for you & that you could experience that pregnancy bliss like so many women who have not been through your hell…there are so many who just will not get it…I (we) hope you will feel all the love & prayers being sent your way.
Nothing I can say will make you feel safe and secure, no matter how much I want it to. I feel but a whisper of that same fear for the life growing inside me, and one whisper more every morning I check to see if you have posted anything. We all want this SO BAD for you. I live for your updates on your little bean…maybe some of that life energy will help support your pregnancy. I love you B.
You worry, we worry. We all cry out in pain with you. We HATE the fact that you have to struggle like this. I had to check your post, before going to work today, as I do, when I get home. Don’t think for once you’re alone in this, the more days you get, we get and if anything were to happen… we’d all curl up in a ball or cry in the corner, right there with you. Could you just imagine all of us in the doctors office with you, gabbing away… like a bunch of hens!! We’re not giving up!!