loss

I'm blogging this because I don't want to have to keep telling this story over and over. However, the more people who know, the less of a chance of someone saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

About 5 weeks ago we found out we were pregnant. We've gone through a miscarriage before, so we were hesitant to get excited about it. However, as time went on we got more hopeful. What also helped was that they found out I had antiphospholipids syndrome. This means I have antibodies that fight off the embryo. So about a month ago I started getting twice daily injections of heparin. (Jason gave these to me.)

I followed all the rules and had quite a few symptoms of pregnancy - morning sickness, being over emotional and all the fun pains that come and go. So we were confident that this baby was going to make it.

This morning we got our first ultrasound and that's when we got the bad news. At 9 weeks there was no heartbeat and it looked like the baby hadn't developed past 7 weeks. I asked "the baby is dead?" And the doctor said yes. My doctor wasn't in, but they said that they would be in contact with me.

What is most devastating is that I went through this exact scenario 9 years ago when I was previously married. At 11 weeks I got my first ultrasound and was told there was no heartbeat. I then waited over a week to miscarry and when this didn't happen, I had a D&C. This severely messed me up for a long time.

First, I was trying to function knowing that I was still technically pregnant, but that the baby was dead. When I was about to go mad (literally), I called the doctor and asked him to do whatever it took but I couldn't keep going on like I had. That's when they scheduled the D&C.

Second, I had two Christian friends tell me (separately) not to get the D&C because technically it's an abortion. They tried to convince me that God could still raise the baby from the dead and having the D&C was going against God's will. Their reasoning was that if God wanted me to get rid of the baby, then it would have happened naturally. (Neither of these women are in my life anymore.)

Third, while I was at the hospital for the D&C a nurse tried to talk me out of it. I guess she hadn't seen my chart. She asked if I was sure I wanted to have this procedures. I looked her straight in the eye and said "the baby is already dead." She left me alone after this. (If looks could kill.)

Then there was the recuperation after the surgery. I couldn't hardly function and ended up going into a depression. At the time I worked with wonderful understanding people (the Vineyard - my church) and they really helped with my healing. But I struggled with getting out of bed in the morning and ended up leaving that job to go to school full time. (Skipping classes was easier than skipping work.)

I remember one of our pastors, Scott Sliver, looking at me several weeks after the miscarriage and pointing out that he finally saw me smile for the first time since losing the baby. I just wasn't myself for a long time. A few of you knew me back then and probably remember all this.

And here I'm dealing with it. Again. I hate to say it but I don't feel so devastated this time around. Jason said I'm a stronger person, my faith is stronger too. Maybe I'm just numb and I've been through this so many times that I don't really care any more.

However I will say that I have fear. Fear of ending up non-functional again. Fear of going through depression again. Fear of so much crap that happened in my life 9 years ago happening again. I have a great job at a very wonderful law firm, but I have so many responsibilities. If I can't keep it together I won't have my job for long.

Not to mention that I'm supposed to travel to Cincinnati next week for work and if I have to have any surgery done, this is going to mess up my project. (I'm the only one in my law firm that does what I do.) Yes, they'll cope, but I might not be seen as valuable as I once was there.

Also, it's Easter weekend. How appropriate that I'm dealing with death on Good Friday. I've seen so many posts on facebook today about "it's Friday, but Sunday's coming." (It's a message that today might be your worst day ever, but there is so much hope that comes with the resurrection of Jesus.) I do believe "Sunday is coming" but I don't think I'll be okay by this Sunday. Do I go to church and fake it? Do I go and not fake it and cry the whole time? Do I just skip it because I don't want to be around people and have to tell them over and over that we lost the baby? I don't know and probably won't decide until Sunday morning. It's 2 days away and 2 days can sometimes be a long time.

Here's the crazy thing. Tomorrow is our church's HUGE Easter Egg Hunt. 15,000 eggs, and hundreds of children, it's so much fun. I've been planning since January to make my clowning debut there. I've been getting ready for months, and have my entire costume completely ready to go. I've been so excited about tomorrow's Easter Egg Hunt and now I don't think I can make it. And yet, I still really want to go.

Here's my thinking... I'll be in clown make-up, being someone other than myself. Only my friends who will be looking for me will recognize me, probably. I can pretend that life is fine, and I'm fine, and not focus on what happened today. But then I worry that I'll see all those happy families, all those children, maybe a few babies, and I'll just lose it. Tears are bad for clown makeup and what's worse than driving home after bawling your eyes out - driving home in a clown costume with clown makeup smeared all over your face. See, not quite sure if I'm up to it. Not sure I want to risk losing it on a day that is so happy for so many people.

But tomorrow is a day away and a lot can happen in a day. Maybe I'll feel a little more together in the morning. Maybe focusing on something other than the loss of a pregnancy would be good for me. Maybe having a real smile a day after such loss would be good for me. I guess I'll decide in the morning.

To my friends who have already contacted me, thank you for all your prayers and kind words. Thank your for your offers to talk or cry. I guess this is my way of "talking" it out. (Thank you for "listening.") I appreciate all your love and support. Feeling loved right now is a very good thing. Thank you.

This afternoon and tonight I'm going to balance the checkbook, clean and organize the living room (having some kind of control and order helps), and call my mom. If I can get through a phone call without completely breaking down, I think I'll be okay.

Oh, and I've already had a Diet Coke, some Advil, and I might even go running tomorrow. I miss running, especially when I have frustration to work out.