My Baby Lentil -the beginning and the end

I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be

There are two days that I know I will have burned in my memory for the rest of my life.

February 21, 2019, the day I saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test for the first time ever, after 28 months of prayerful longing for a child.

March 18, 2019, the day that I first heard the phrase “I’m sorry for your loss” directed at me. At me. Sitting with my feet in stirrups. A young(ish) woman who for less than four weeks had been able to enjoy the expectation of bringing new life into our family. It was gone.

February 21st started like most work days. Wake up, get ready, pray with Bryan, head to work. This particular Thursday had another element that was slightly different, but not totally uncommon for me. It was one of many mornings in the last two years that I woke up wondering if I was pregnant. “Are my boobs sore because of pregnancy or period hormones?” “Am I sick to my stomach because I have ‘morning sickness’ or because I ate dairy and I shouldn’t have?” “Am I sleepy because unbeknownst to me I’ve been building a tiny human, or because the dog kicked me all night?” If you are part of the tirelessly hopeful TTC community, you know this inner monologue well. And you know each month you have a choice to be “optimistic” or “realistic.” Because when the first time, and the third, and the twelfth, and the twentieth time is most emphatically NOT the charm for conception, you just start to assume the pattern will continue. At least I did.

I was fully immersed in realism that morning. I dutifully peed on the stick, because my calendar told me to. I went to the bedroom, Bryan prayed over our day and our commutes and I kissed him goodbye. Out of curiosity I wandered back into the bathroom to see if the stick was ready…. ie: ready to go in the garbage with all the others. BUT THERE IT WAS. The BFP (big fat positive)!!! I always thought I would yell or something.

Instead: “Uhhhh….. Bryan??? Can you come in here???”

As he had not yet made it out of the house, he walked in to see me holding up a pregnancy test with a look of confusion. Pure bewilderment. I did not believe what I was seeing, truly.

“I must have done it wrong. Too much pee on the stick or something. Where’s the box?………Oh yeah, it says five seconds. That was way longer than five seconds. I messed it up I’ll take another.”

And another. THREE BFPs.

And that’s when the deer-in-the-headlights look I had started turning into a cautious smirk, to a smile, to grinning ear to ear, to giggling like a school kid. WHAT?!?!?! I thought we couldn’t do this!!!!!!!! Twenty. Eight. Months. 28 months of personally verified data told me we couldn’t do this!!!!!

(I’m crying as I sit here writing this part, because I can remember distinctly how amazing that felt. God, I want it back.)

We decided that we would not tell a soul until a blood test confirmed the result. Since we had been working with Dr. Yeh at Houston Fertility Institute for over a year, I called their office to see if I could come in on my lunch break. I wanted to know asap!! They were able to get me in, and did not call me back with the results until after 4pm. It was the longest three hours of my life (at that point) waiting to hear for sure. I was so excited and relieved when the nurse congratulated me! I called Bryan to let him know.

We were officially PARENTS! There really, really, really was something (someone ❤ ) new and beloved growing in my body.

And growing rapidly! I am the kind of person that likes to be informed. So, I immediately subscribed to every week-by-week update website that I found. The Bump, Babylist, BabyCenter, and of course, What to Expect When You’re Expecting. I had already been gifted copies of “What to Expect” and “Eating Well When You’re Expecting” along with a few other hand me downs. All of these things, plus the Google monster, served me well from day one.

The following weeks were so much fun for Bryan and me, sharing our news with family and friends and letting the landscape of our future together begin to take new shape in our minds. The joy that I felt in that time is indescribable. Every choice that I made felt important and somewhat heavy, as I was deciding for two. There were times that it overwhelmed me, as adjusting to parenthood can. But for the majority, I was light as a feather and constantly singing the praises of my Father in Heaven that could give me the desires of my heart in this beautiful way.

First maternity self-portrait

Unfortunately, from a medical perspective, my first weeks of pregnancy were telling a less hopeful story. We just couldn’t foresee the severity at the time.

As my first trimester was to be monitored by Dr. Yeh at HFI, even though they hadn’t taken part in the conception, I was asked to come in very frequently for blood draws to check my hormones. From the start, my estrogen was low and I was put on supplements immediately. I was getting checked every three to five days. As my estrogen levels started to climb to a “healthy” place, my progesterone dipped and I was put on supplements for that as well. Eventually I noticed that my HCG wasn’t doubling and tripling at the rate that dear ole Google told me it should. Worry crept in. However, my first couple ultrasounds gave me confidence. Dr. Yeh had confirmed as early in the pregnancy as five weeks that it was not an ectopic pregnancy and that there was indeed a gestational sac in my uterus. At the second appointment, the nurse gave me a picture of the ultrasound that had a measurement of my teeny tiny future printed on the side. A “crown to rump” length (CRL) of my child. He or she was growing!

2nd Ultrasound

On March 12th, Bryan and I were scheduled to go in for my third ultrasound. As I was nearly six and a half weeks pregnant, and had been told that we might be able to hear a heartbeat for the first time, Bryan arranged to leave work early and come with me to HFI for the first time. We were so nervous and excited. We were not prepared for the news that came as a stark contrast to our expectations. The nurse told us that there was no growth, and that we should prepare ourselves before the next appointment. We left completely deflated and a little in shock.

March 13th, the lab results came back. Estrogen was dropping, progesterone had tanked, and HCG looked stalled. Absolute panic overhwelmed me. Google monster reared it’s head. Bryan and I spent our evening praying with friends and family. By Thursday morning I was confident again. After all, I worship a God of abundance, and miraculous healing! Even though I did not know what was next, I am still grateful that the Holy Spirit was able to give me moments of joy an peace that week.

Friday, March 15th I went to work, all still normal(ish) and hope in my heart. Then around 10:30am, the end began.

At first the bleeding was light, but not what seemed like “spotting” I had read about before. I called the nurse at HFI and she said she would speak to a doctor. Dr. Yeh was out of town for the week on vacation. I called Bryan, in tears, hardly able to speak the words to him. I told him I’d be going home, as I could barely keep it together. Later, he let me know he was on his way. When the nurse called back, she said to start taking the progesterone supplements twice a day, to rest as much as possible over the weekend, and Dr. Yeh would see me for my previously scheduled ultrasound on Monday.

Over the three days and nights that followed, my fear and faith were a constant ebb and flow, dancing together uncomfortably inside of me. I prayed and prayed over my womb, “God, I am so happy and I want to be a parent. I know that my body is made to handle a lot, and is designed to protect this child. I am willing to endure, whatever it is. Fear, pain, bring it on! Just let me have this, please!”

“God, you are Lord of Life. You rose Jesus from the grave. Regardless of what an ultrasound and hormones have told me, I believe you can bring my child back to me.”

I did not sleep Sunday night. Monday morning came, and I stayed at home instead of going to work as planned. I felt numb. I knew that the appointment at 1:30 would bring no relief. I knew that I would either be given devastating news at worst, and the best I could hope for  would be signs of growth and that my new battle with fear of losing my child would not last the whole nine months.

As you know from the beginning of this post, devastation ensued. My mother was able to support me by joining me at the ultrasound, since Bryan had to be at work. We both thought we might throw up as we walked up to the building, I waited for another blood draw, and then we were put in an exam room. Dr. Yeh only had to look at the ultrasound screen for a short while to tell me that there was no longer a gestational sac visible. He did keep looking for a little while longer, to be sure. Nothing came. The doctor told me that it wasn’t my fault, that if something doesn’t grow properly a woman’s body can tell, and oftentimes that is why the life is not sustained. I’m sure he said other scientific and pseudo-comforting things, but I can’t remember. He and the nurse said they’d leave us, and we could have the room for as long as we needed. I said thanks, but I’d wait to freak out at home.

The rest of the day was a blur of sadness, numbness, anger, shock, surrealism, and probably other feelings there are no words for yet because it is too painful for humans to name them. I shared news that no one should ever have to share. I was pregnant…. and then I wasn’t. No baby to show for it.

By the grace of God (and I say this because I know women who have had much harder, lengthier experiences with miscarriages, that put their own health at risk) my body passed the majority of the “tissue” in the middle of the night, that same day I received the news. It was heart-, soul- and gut-wrenching. I knew that my sweet baby’s soul was probably already gone to be with Jesus. It didn’t tame the emotional trauma attached to the physical trauma. Since I have never given birth, I cannot of course say this with certainty, but I feel as though miscarrying must be at least in part a similar experience to early labor. I had severe cramping, that extended to my back and in brief moments wracked my whole body with pain or discomfort. The contractions came on strong every 60 to 90 minutes from about 1:00 am to 6:00 am. I continued to have bleeding and discomfort for a total of nine or ten days and then, thankfully it was complete. No D&C needed. I am so very grateful for that.

I also can’t describe my gratitude and love for all of the friends and family that supported Bryan and me in so many ways throughout the joyful hilltops and sorrowful valleys of this year. I know that my God has not forsaken me. I feel Him in still, quiet moments. I see Him in the faces of my loved ones. I hear Him in the songs of praise that I find I’m still able to sing.

On the mountains, I will bow my life
To the One who set me there
In the valley, I will lift my eyes
To the One who sees me there

When I’m standing on the mountain
I didn’t get there on my own
When I’m walking through the valley
I know I am not alone

-Tauren Wells