Two Pink Lines Taken Away

You never think it will happen to you. It's not even a thought in your mind. You look down and see those two pink lines or that digital "pregnant" on the screen. You are filled with so much joy and it's all you can think about. Your mind goes straight to picking names, nursery plans, cute clothes, and all the good and beautiful things that happen when expecting a baby. You're over the moon and you've lost sight of Earth and all of its problems. You feel like nothing could bring you down because you're about to have the baby you've been trying for.

But then, life throws you a curveball. You start spotting. You start cramping. You tell yourself it's nothing because you heard it's normal in the first trimester. Worry hits you like a ton of bricks. The spotting turns into a light flow and then heavier. The cramps start feeling deeper. You go to the doctor or the hospital and your fears are confirmed. "I'm sorry, but you are indeed miscarrying."

You've heard of women miscarrying but you never thought it'd be you.

Winter Grace and Zachary Michael. Those are the names of my now Angel babies. In February 2018, after trying to conceive since August 2017, we finally saw the two pink lines we've been waiting to see. Both I and my husband thought we were broken because he tried to conceive with his late wife and was never able to and I thought that if I had not yet gotten pregnant, something must have been wrong with my body. But there it was. Two joyful pink lines.

We were overwhelmed with joy and the first thing we did was think of baby names. Before we even went and got an ultrasound, we bought a couple of cute outfits. All we could think of was our excitement. I had my first appointment in March. They did the ultrasound and all they could see was the sac. They told me I was probably just too early. The doctor ordered an HCG count to see if my levels were rising as they should. I pushed worry out of my mind. "It can't happen to me. I'm too young and healthy."

The following week I go back to the doctor to find out my results. The HCG is rising as it should! I was overwhelmed with relief. They scheduled me for another ultrasound the following week because by then I would be far enough along for them to see my baby.

My appointment arrived and things felt different. As we sat in the waiting room all I could feel was nervousness and dread. I felt like I was on the verge of throwing up and passing out. My anxiety was through the roof. We were finally called to the back where our worst fears would be confirmed. "You have a blighted ovum. The baby either stopped developing or never started developing. You will start miscarrying soon"

It was the most crushed I have ever felt. Why was this happening? My mind immediately went into guilt mode. Was it my fault? Was it the alcoholic beverage I had before I found out I was pregnant? It had to have been my fault. The doctor explained that when a pregnancy is going to be healthy and successful there's almost nothing you can do to mess it up. Women who drink and smoke cigarettes and do drugs successfully have babies every day. There was nothing I did to cause it. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it.

A few days passed and March turned into April when I began to miscarry. It started out as a regular monthly cycle but then it started to get heavier. It was 3 or 4 days into it, the flow started pouring. I knew something was wrong. I began to feel incredibly weak and my blood pressure started dropping. By the time we got to the hospital, I was in agony. I was basically having labor pains both frontal and back. It was excruciating and the fact that I was in emotional despair and grieving made it all the worse.

They got me hooked up to fluids and had to give me two shots of Demerol just to stop the pain. While I was there I passed a large mass. We were not sure if it was a blood clot or possibly the placenta. They transported me to the women's hospital 45 minutes away where it was confirmed that I had successfully passed everything so a D&C would not be necessary. They sent us home so that the healing could finally begin.

Healing is a long road that is not traveled in a day. For months I cried every time I saw a baby. I unfollowed everyone on my Facebook that was either pregnant or just had a baby. I couldn't stand to look at them. I was nothing against them. It was just too painful. Seeing them made me so angry. I hated feeling that way. But I just couldn't understand why did it have to happen to me? I wanted to blame God because it felt like he had answered our prayers and then cruelly snatched them away. I felt ashamed of the feelings I was having.

Eventually, the number of tears began to decrease. My emotional breakdowns began to become further and further apart and eventually faded into a few tears here and there like a light misty rain after a downpour. Even though we never even got as far as finding out whether our baby would have been a boy or a girl, my motherly instincts told me it would have been a beautiful baby girl. We named her Winter Grace. I may not have held her in my arms but I held her in my heart and I always will.

After a year and a half of healing and once again trying to conceive, there I was again staring at 2 pink lines. It was October 7th, 2019. It was like de-ja-vu. Except, this time, I had no joy. Only fear. All I could think about was the last time. Surely It wouldn't happen again. What are the chances it could happen again? Would God really let it happen again?

Sure enough, the very next day, I started spotting. Anxiety through the roof once again, I reached out to everyone on Facebook and many said that as long as it's light, I shouldn't worry. They had it happen and went on to have a healthy pregnancy. I couldn't bring myself to find any hope. I didn't bother buying any baby outfits or picking out names. I think my instincts knew that It was going to happen again.

Over the next few days, the spotting once again turned heavier and bright red. On the night of October 15th, my husband was preparing to leave for work. I started cramping and passing small clots. I sat on the toilet and he held my hand as I wept from the depths of my soul. My instincts told me to get up and look in the toilet and there it was. My baby. His body was about an inch long and he was encapsulated in his amniotic sac. I dug him out. There's no way I would flush my baby. He was mine and I wanted to hold him no matter how small he was.

I broke down weeping even harder as I held my angel. I may not have been able to physically see that he was a boy but every fiber of my being told me he was. My husband called into work and we must have sat in that bathroom for an hour just holding him and grieving. From the size of him, I was close to 8 weeks. I could see the small nubs that would have been his hands and feet. I could see the little dot on his face that would have become one of his eyes. He was the most beautiful and precious and pure thing I had ever held in my hands.

We probably could have sat in that bathroom forever but we had to find the strength to get up and let him go. We gently laid him in a plastic travel soap container and buried him outside. We named him Zachary Michael which means "God remembers". I knew that God would remember us and remember our pain and remember our prayers for a baby.

My recovery went smoother than the last. Minimal physical pain. No heavy bleeding that required emergency care. I physically bounced back quickly. I praise God for that.

After that, we gave up hope. We continued trying but we didn't really think about conceiving anymore. If we conceived, great. If not, we guess it just wasn't meant to be.

January 5th, 2020. We were on a trip to Texas celebrating our 2nd Wedding anniversary. We had a great night of playing pool and drinking. Normally I hold my Liquor just fine but for some reason, that night I tossed my cookies after 4 margaritas. A few days later I had begun having some indigestion and food aversions which were unusual for me.

We were at my mom's house and I decided to, on a whim, take a pregnancy test. I didn't think into it very much. I expected it to be negative. Well, I'll be damned. Positive. This time all I could feel is shock at first and then some worry. But both I and my husband figured "What the heck? Third time's a charm right?" And right we were! Our beautiful daughter, Piper, was born on August 9th, 2020 at 8:23 pm weighing in at 8lbs and 4oz and super healthy.

God Remembered.

We will always have two small pieces missing from our hearts. We will always wonder the "What ifs" and the "what could have been". We will always wonder about their hair color and eye color. What their first word would have been. What they would have grown up to become... There's so much about them that we'll always wonder about and never know. But I suppose God knew that my parents, who are no longer with me on earth, would need two beautiful grandbabies with them. I close my eyes and I can see my dad lifting his grandson in the air joyfully. I can see my mom rocking her granddaughter and smiling down at her. And that alone gives me comfort.

I would not wish miscarriage upon my worst enemy. It's one of the most agonizing things I have ever gone through. But if I had to go through it again, I would. Why?

Because knowing this pain enables me to help others who have gone through it and will go through it.

For anyone who knows this pain, my heart is with you. May you find comfort and healing.

Thank you for reading.