I know we have a lot of people out there praying and hoping for us. All of your encouragement and hope for us means so much. I have been dreaming of the day when I can share good news with all of you. Today is not that day. A couple of weeks ago, we found out we were expecting again. Today, we found out that I am going to miscarry.
It’s been a roller coaster couple of weeks. From the highs of thinking that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different to following levels that weren’t quite doing what the doctors wanted them to do to warnings and worries from the doctors that we could be dealing with an ectopic pregnancy again.
I cannot begin to tell you how terrifying it is to hear those words. Ectopic pregnancy. I’ve done a lot of reading on this one, having gone through this in February, then hearing the dreaded words again in the last couple of weeks. For those who don’t know, ectopic pregnancies are very dangerous and also very difficult to pinpoint. You are left, while waiting to see how things develop, on high alert for symptoms that a tube has ruptured, and you’re bleeding internally. If a tube ruptures, it can compromise your chances of having another baby or even kill you. It is emotionally and physically exhausting to hyper-analyze every symptom you feel and wonder whether this is the one that should send you to the ER. Each pain wondering whether it was sharp enough, painful enough to warrant a call to the doctor.
When this happened to us in February, we didn’t have to torture ourselves for very long. My levels indicated earlier on that the pregnancy would not be viable, and under the advice of our doctor, we proceeded with a drug called methotrexate. Methotrexate is a cancer drug which stops rapidly growing cells from developing. I had to go to the local cancer center, to their infusion center, and sit in a chemotherapy chair while I waited for 2 shots that would end our dreams of parenthood once again. They never did find out if the embryo implanted in the wrong place, but it was a “better safe than sorry” situation.
This time, our torture was much longer. We began receiving the “watch for the warning signs” speech more than a week ago. Every minute of the day, I tormented myself over every pang and pain. There was still a chance that the pregnancy could be viable, and we wanted to give this baby every chance. Today, we learned that the embryo may have implanted on my ovary, which could be very dangerous. Fortunately (and I use that term VERY loosely), my levels are going down, and my body seems to be taking care of this one on its own. It’s not likely that I’ll have to get another injection of a cancer drug. And this is what passes for “good news” in our house these days.
So here we are. 4 pregnancies. 4 losses. After each one, it gets harder and harder to pick ourselves back up, dust off, and think about whether we want to roll the dice again. It certainly seems like the deck is stacked against us. I’m having a hard time picking myself up off the floor this time. And I have to wonder how many times we’ll get knocked down with such brutal force.