Seeing as we didn't know that I had a miscarriage, we just thought we were having trouble getting pregnant. We had been trying since May and there we were, in the fall, still not pregnant. My friend "G" got pregnant with her second, and I was so jealous it was eating me up like crazy-it was her second and we still couldn't get pregnant with our first! I stopped being jealous a month later when she had a miscarriage. It happened while I was with her, too, and I've always felt some type of karmic pang for my immediate jealous reaction. Even though, rationally, I knew that I had nothing to do with it, I resolved to stop feeling resentful of all the other people I knew who were getting pregnant. "G" got pregnant again very quickly and had a very happy and healthy baby boy about a month after we had Lily.
We found out that we were pregnant in very early November. Two blue lines-the most beautiful sight I ever saw. Even though I eventually threw away the pregnancy test in a fit of hysterical mourning, the memory of those two blue lines floods my system with waves of happiness. This was what we wanted and it was real and it was ours and we were overjoyed. We called our parents and our siblings and my best friends. I also called the doctor's office and said that the pregnancy test said I was pregnant and asked if I needed a blood test to confirm (hey, that's what they do on TV), but the doctor said if the test said I was pregnant, then I was pregnant. We scheduled an ultrasound which showed a fetal pole, but no heartbeat. The doctor assured me that everything was normal, I was only about 4 or 5 weeks long. We scheduled another appointment for 3 weeks later.
Clues that maybe something was wrong even though the internet assured me that it wasn't necessarily the case: no nausea whatsoever, no food cravings or food aversions, no weight gain, no hyper super sniffer, no mood swings, and no exhaustion. Still, it was early in the pregnancy.
My birthday is in November, and that year was my 30th, so the hubby threw a HUGE party and all friends and family were invited. I sat there all night with this happy little secret in my head and smiled more than I usually do. You should see the pictures-I look like a deranged clown. We had made our families swear to keep the secret and they did a pretty good job (even though my dad was talking to hubby's dad about the pregnancy at the party). We even managed to keep the secret through Thanksgiving at hubby's aunt's house, but we told his grandmother. It seemed right at the time. Two days later, I miscarried.
At first there was a slow, dull cramp, but as time went on the cramps got more and more painful and the blood got darker and darker. I knew what was happening. Even though my doctor said that you never know until the ultrasound, I knew. I didn't even need to make an appointment because the miscarriage timed itself perfectly with that 3-week check I already had scheduled. The hubby was less reluctant to believe that it was over. He was holding out hope with all his masculine might. That night I experienced the most physical pain I've ever been in in my adult life. It felt like my body was ripping in two and my back was on fire. Exhausted, I got up to pee and there, in the toilet, was my baby; just a mass of blood and cells and tissue, which after a quick examination by hubby was whoosh, flushed away. We were both crying.
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