I do not like to take risks. In almost every decision I make, more than likely I have analyzed the different possible outcomes. That is why when faced with an extremely large, and extremely fast roller coaster {just like all my non-risk taker friends out there}, I hesitate to even get in line for the ride.
First, there is the nauseous feeling once buckled into the seat, when the bar gets pulled down onto the laps of all the riders….or, when the bar doesn’t quite fit snuggly against your lap {and there seems to be an abnormal amount of wiggle room}, and you wonder if this is how you will die; you imagine falling out of your seat while plummeting down the rollercoaster hill, all because the 16 year old ride operator didn’t notice you weren’t quite secure. Yes, I have had this moment of fear.
Or, the nervous feeling while the ride SLOWLY climbs that first hill {and the same feeling once you start to fall tremendously fast back down the hill and you realize there really is no turning back}.
During the ride you think you are having fun, you think how awesome a time you are having {and you begin to wonder how the heck the picture that was just snapped while entering that last tunnel will turn out}, but then you enter the straightaway at the end of the ride, and as you begin to slow down you can’t help but finally take a breath {because, let’s face it, you didn’t breathe the entire ride} and you think, “oh thank goodness, I am still alive, my lap bar held up.”
As you walk away from the ride, deciding if you should get back in line and take the chance again {and you are only considering it because you are still hopped up on endorphins}, you have to try REALLY hard to remember the fun you think you were having when, for the most part, you begin to worry that the odds of not getting strapped in tight enough have increased by taking the chance again. Dang lap bar scenario.
Take all of these same emotions {the ups and downs of the ride, both literally and figuratively}, and this is how I can best describe what it was like going through my first two miscarriages {the third pregnancy/miscarriage ended up being quite a bit different, so that “ride” will be for another time}.
Both times we found out I was pregnant, we were on a great high. The first time, we were excited because it had taken us a year to get pregnant and we finally thought we had won the infertility war. The second time we were excited because the numbers were on our side….once you have had one miscarriage, it is more likely that the next pregnancy will go just fine.
Even though we were excited to be pregnant, there was still that “lap bar” moment where you wonder if you are really ready for the ride. I really do believe Graham and I are ready to be parents, but being a parent is unknown territory for us…how can you ever feel like “oh yeah, I got this” when it comes to being responsible for another life for the first time.
Then, there was the first couple of weeks {in both pregnancies} where time seemed to move just as slowly as the roller coaster does up the first hill. At this point in the pregnancies, it was so early that all we could do was gather data {such as hCG numbers and check on my thyroid levels}. We wouldn’t really know what our pregnancy “ride” had in store for us until some time had passed and we could recheck the same tests to compare the results.
But then, my pregnancies finally climbed to the top of that first hill, and there was no turning back. We had to go through the ups and downs, the twists and turns, and the unexpectedness that the next few weeks had in store for us.
With both of the first two pregnancies, I knew right away when I was pregnant. Because we had been trying for so long, and especially after we learned how crazy my thyroid acted during the first pregnancy {we knew it had to be monitored more closely the second time}, I started taking the cheap-o pregnancy tests, that I talked about in an earlier post, about 9 days after ovulation {because, from what I have learned, this would be about the very earliest anyone would know they are pregnant}.
Just for the sake of easy math, let’s say I learned I was pregnant at exactly four weeks along. The first pregnancy I miscarried at just over nine weeks along, the second pregnancy at just over ten weeks along. Those five and six weeks worth of time came with the same highs and lows as does the rollercoaster after it nose dives over that first hill.
The first sign that there was trouble, in both pregnancies, was that I started spotting and bleeding. Now, spotting can be completely normal, and it occurs in many healthy pregnancies. Once I also started experiencing cramping, however, there was a bit more cause for concern.
These two symptoms lead to getting my hCG checked {among other things}. In both pregnancies, my hCG {betas, as I will now refer to them}, did not double as they should. They increased, which is good {and made us feel like were having “fun”}, but they didn’t increase enough {which lead us to feeling like maybe the ride wasn’t all that “fun”}.
Because of the pain and such, my doctor also did ultrasounds. At five and six weeks along, they weren’t really checking for a fetus {because that early on, and with my betas still being low, it was unlikely they would see a fetus}. But, because I was having pain and bleeding, they needed to make sure I was okay. They did find that I had cysts on my ovaries, which can also be completely normal {and that there was no worry, or need to do anything with them at the point of finding them}, but with my pain persisting, they were something they had to continue to monitor.
Essentially {in both pregnancies}, because of pain, bleeding, low progesterone levels, finding the cysts, crazy thyroid levels, and low betas, I was in the doctor’s office at least once a week for an ultrasound.
With both pregnancies, we did end up seeing a gestational sac around week seven. Although we were excited that something was growing, we were quickly brought back down to earth because we were faced with the fact that the fetus wasn’t developing as fast as it should.
But, we kept hearing “it’s not over until it’s over.” My doctors kept trying to keep our positivity up by telling us that anything could happen this early on in a pregnancy. So, going in each week to see how things had developed is what we did.
The week after seeing the gestational sac, we saw that the fetal pole had developed {excitement ensues}….but we were informed there wasn’t a heartbeat and that at almost 8 weeks along, it was more likely that there should have been one. But, again, we were told to remain positive and we would see how things had progressed at the next check.
The next time we went in, we heard a heartbeat {obviously our biggest high yet….we had always thought that a heartbeat equaled success}. But, we were informed the heartbeat wasn’t strong enough and we were going to have to wait again.
Let me tell you, these were the longest weeks of my life. It as especially tough during the second pregnancy as I had entered the slow time of the year for my business and it was hard to keep as busy. Add that to the fact that my doctor didn’t want me to set up the normal “schedule” for checks and testing that are done during a “normal” pregnancy and I knew things were not very promising.
In both pregnancies, after hearing the weak heartbeats, the next time we went in for the ultrasound update, we found that the fetus was no longer there and that I would miscarry {this “diagnosis” was also confirmed with the fact that my betas had stopped increasing}.
This was the point where I thought, “is this ride ever going to end…I do not think I can take another hill or another upside-down twist.”
With both miscarriages, I was given three choices with how to proceed. The first was to have a D&C. This is the surgery that removes the pregnancy. The second choice was to take misoprostol to induce the miscarriage and then let the body work it out naturally from there. The third option was to let the body start the miscarriage, on its own, naturally.
I decided to go with the misoprostol both times. Although I cannot speak to what exactly the risks are that were explained to me, I knew I didn’t want to do a D&C unless necessary {any surgery has risks}. I also didn’t want to feel like a sitting duck, just wondering if that day would be the day the miscarriage would start naturally {my doctor did say it could take up to a week or more for it to start on its own}. So, I chose the misoprostol route. Again, I am not a risk taker, so at least with this route I felt I had a bit of control over when the miscarriage actually started and I could at least prepare for the next few days appropriately.
One of the things I did have to keep in mind with choosing this option was that it might not work. I had to go in and get my betas checked a couple of days after taking the misoprostol to make sure they were going down and I had to continue to be checked until the betas were back down to zero {officially not pregnant then}. Had my betas not gone down {or not gone down enough}, I would have had to take another dose of misoprostol, or would have potentially been forced to have a D&C. Luckily, with both of my first two miscarriages, I only had to take one dose of misoprostol.
The day I took the misoprostol was a lot like entering the straightaway at the end of the rollercoaster ride….you know the ride is over.
After both miscarriages, there was definitely that moment where we walked away from the “ride” and had to decide if we wanted to get back in line for another go at it. More than anything, Graham and I want to be parents and have a family, so we did decide to get back on for another turn…..this last time around {with my third miscarriage}, the ride was a lot different and a lot more unexpected {and scary}. In my next post, I will share why it took us a year to get back on for the third time.
However, what I want to say in conclusion to this whole post is that I encourage anyone in a similar situation to try to sit back and enjoy the ride as much as possible. Now looking back on the three losses, that is the one thing I wish I could have done myself….I didn’t let myself enjoy the highs as much as I let myself get down by the lows.
Graham and I have decided to get back on the crazy rollercoaster for one final time. We have a plan in place regardless of what the ride will bring for us, but knowing that this is the last time we have to hold onto that lap bar {for dear life, of course}, we have promised each other to try and do our best to be nothing other than excited, to be optimistic, and stay positive. Heck, I might even throw my hands in the air, letting go of that lap bar, as we plummet down the first hill. We know there is a good chance we won’t be going on this rollercoaster ever again, so we want to enjoy it…all I can do for now, however, is encourage you to do the same….until next time…
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