On June 27, 2013 I was at work. It was a normal workday, except I was looking forward to picking my mom up from the train station, on the way home. She was taking the trip from Southern Oregon to the Central Coast of California to visit me and my husband. Well, I can say it was just to see us (I mean, we’re super fun to be around), but there was a new love in all of our lives. Our son, Chase, had been born almost six months earlier, on January 5, 2013.
Part I: Before There Was You
We waited almost nine months to meet our son, but the road to holding our perfect little boy, was paved several years before then. By the end of 2010, we’d been married for about 2 ½ years already. We had taken time to enjoy each other’s company, buy our first home, adopt our dog, Lucy, and take some trips as just the two of us (sorry, Lucy had to stay home). Now we were ready to take the ultimate trip…to parenthood. Within four months, we were thrilled to find out we were pregnant. This was happening. I found a local doctor, took my early blood test to confirm what the at-home test had already told us and had even had an ultrasound. I was embracing the idea of baby weight gain, and was treating myself to a burger and fries after every doctor appointment. We told our close family the happy news about eight weeks in and shared our first ultrasound pictures. We had read in our pregnancy books that it’s recommended to wait until after the first trimester to announce a pregnancy, so we were holding off on telling friends for a few more weeks. At eleven weeks, we couldn’t hold it in any longer. I called my closest friends and embraced the congratulations.
At our almost twelve week appointment, we were getting ready to hear the baby’s heartbeat again (no ultrasound). I was bummed we weren’t getting another ultrasound, but I didn’t want to be a difficult patient/mother, so we went with protocol. After making some small talk with the nurse and confirming that I was feelin’ great, we settled in (as much as you can on a paper covered table), as the nurse put the wand up to my belly. The wand moved around a little and my husband and I waited for the swooshing sound we’d already grown to love. The nurse went around the hemisphere of my tummy a little bit longer, but still no swooshing. It didn’t take too much longer for me to transition from quiet anticipation to “I don’t want to do this anymore”. The nurse said she’d be right back and left the room. My husband and I looked at each other. The only thing I can remember saying is that no matter what happens, I love him. The nurse poked her head back into our room and said that she was going to take us over to the room with the higher frequency machine and do an ultrasound. By this time, the doctor had been alerted and he was going to be joining our appointment. This is one of those times it sucks to feel like the popular kid. The ultrasound started and the doctor began walking us through what he was seeing. His finger circled the screen as he traced the area where the baby was hiding out. He then pointed out that there was the little fetus, but that he was sorry to say, there was no heartbeat. According to the dimensions taken from the ultrasound machine, the baby had stopped growing at around eight weeks (just after my last appointment). Because it had been almost four weeks and my body hadn’t naturally miscarried, he was recommending a D&C. Sure. Fine.
After the procedure, we were back in his office to see how I was feeling and talk about next steps for getting pregnant again. In the time before the appointment, my husband and I cried and broke the news to family and friends. The doctor opened up the conversation by telling us he wanted to discuss the results of the D&C. Results? Part of me was pleased that he was thorough and had analyzed some of my collected tissue. The other part of me was just plain surprised that he’d analyzed some of my collected tissue. He went on to tell us that I’d had a partial molar pregnancy. This term was actually slightly familiar to me. I had seen it in the chapter of my pregnancy book that I told myself I wasn’t going to look at, because my pregnancy wasn’t going to have any issues. Damn it. I didn’t want to look at that chapter. But apparently I was that chapter. He went on to explain a partial molar pregnancy. He also recommended that we hold off on trying to get pregnant again for another year. Another year?!
For the next year, I was a good patient. I went for my monthly blood tests and went back on birth control, as directed. I tried telling myself that a year wasn’t really that long and that we could embrace this as a year of fun. Who was I kidding. It was a year of painful waiting.
Part II: We Can’t Wait to Meet You
5 Essentials to Rediscovering Your Joy After Loss
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