A rainbow of hope at the end of every storm

“There is a rainbow of hope at the end of every storm….”

I became pregnant with my daughter very quickly.  I had recently began working full time at a job I Ioved, and remember telling my husband that I wanted to stop taking my birth control pills “just to see what happens”.  I was told it could take up to a year after stopping birth control to get pregnant, and it took me a month! It was a pretty uncomplicated pregnancy that ended with my daughter being born via c-section.  She was a beautiful spitfire, and while I was sure that I would want to have another child someday, I told myself that I wanted to enjoy just her for as long as possible.  I had an IUD put in just to make sure nothing happened.

After Alexandrea turned 2 1/2, we decided to start “trying” again.  After getting the IUD out, we “tried”, and “tried”, and “tried”.  This time,  it took longer that I thought it would.  I was getting frustrated and thought something was wrong with me.  Finally, after 6 months,  I had a positive pregnancy test!  I was relieved and expected everything to go as normal, like the last time.  I was young, active, took care of myself, and did not expect anything else. 

I remember going to the doctor’s office for my 8 week visit.  During the ultrasound,  the tech looked at me then the ultrasound.  “This is a small one”, she said, “barely 6 weeks.  There’s a heartbeat there but it is small”.  I looked at her like she was crazy.  I was already getting a pooch, not alot of other symptoms (like nausea or morning sickness) but I didn’t have alot of symptoms last time, either.  The doctor was a bit warmer, he told me to come back in 2 weeks “just to check things out”.  Two weeks later,  I remember dropping my daughter off at daycare then going for a run.  I felt a little bit of dread, but I attributed that to being nervous.  My husband met me at the doctor’s office, then we went in for our ultrasound. 

The tech asked me this time, “Did you make any progress?”  I honestly couldn’t say I did, and then I started to suspect.  I wouldn’t look at the screen for the longest time.  When I finally did,  it was at the same time when the tech said, “I’m sorry, it looks like you had a miscarriage”.  I was devastated.  I did not think it would happen to me.  The doctor came in, offered his condolences, and gave us 24 hours to decide if we wanted a D and C or to take pills to miscarry at home.  I wanted neither, but felt like the D and C would give me more closure, so that is what we did.  I went from being pregnant to no longer pregnant in the span of 2 days.

I kept telling myself that I was fine with having one child, but it was hard to stay positive.  I found myself crying at odd times, and wanting to avoid people, especially my daughter.  My husband was supportive and willing to take on more work at the house,  but it was hard to talk to him about how I was feeling.  It was also hardest being at work,  I am a physical therapist and work with patients who suffer traumatic injuries, I had to help them get their lives together while I felt mines had ended.  Work was also where I had two women in my department who were pregnant with their second and third child.  I was really hoping that they would come back from maternity leave and see me and my growing belly.  I had not told anyone at work that I was pregnant and ended up telling my boss about the miscarriage to get time off for the D and C.  I told her it was OK to tell others what was going on because I was tired of explaining why I was always running off to cry.

My doctor recommended that I go back on birth control pills, all I wanted to do was to get pregnant again and put this whole ordeal behind me.  I hemmed and hawwed for a month but eventually  took his advice and went on the pills for 3 months.  I joined grief groups.  I prayed. I talked with friends, my mom, and mother in law, who also had miscarriages.  I prayed.  I read my bible, I prayed.  It was a comfort to me that there were others who had went through a similar situation,  and those whose stories were worse (multiple losses, still births, babies dying young) reminded me that my story could have been worse, or over. I told myself that my baby just was not ready to meet me yet,  they had more work to do in heaven. 

Four months after having my miscarriage,  I felt ready to start “trying” again.  Of course, my husband was excited. We tried, and tried.  This time for maybe 2-3 months.  Continued to pray and read my bible throughout, continued to go to grief groups, talk to my pastors.  Checked with myself that I was doing this for the right reasons.  I started loving on my daughter again, because I knew that bond had to stay strong no matter what else happened.  I finally took a pregnancy test, then another.  I took a picture of the second one and sent it to my husband in a text (he was out of town for work) in March, when our baby would have been due.  I waited for him to he at home before I sent it to him, so we were together probably for 2 whole days before I sent the text. I remember him picking me up in a hug and knowing that we would be OK, too.

Isaac came on November 7, 2015, after 39 weeks and 5 days of light nausea, moderate fatigue,  quite a bit of work stress, NO swelling,  and plenty of prayers.  The labor was probably about 26 hours, I don’t think I did my exhale of glee until he was laying on my chest.  We held each other, looked at each other, and grunted at each other.  His sister was pretty unhappy that it was a boy, but fell in love with him the minute she saw him. He was totally worth the wait.