As our fertility story unfolds
Normally writing these blogs comes naturally. I feel inspired to write and it just pours out.
Today, I sat down to write this post, for the third time and still feel at a little bit of a loss on what to say.
As soon as I started typing, questions and restrictions started filling my mind: but how much do I share? Where do I draw the line? What if I misrepresent the experiences of others? What if I’m being overly sensitive? What if I’m not being sensitive enough and come across as cold? What is the purpose of sharing? Therapeutic writing? Starting a dialogue?
So, instead of trying to answer all of the questions or appease all of the fears that fill my mind in sharing this right now, I’m just going to focus on sharing a little piece of my heart with you today.
A little over a week ago, I was planning on how I would post our announcement about baby #2, and Cam and I were dreaming up our plans on telling our big news at our Christmas Eve party. As soon as I saw those two little pink lines, I was busy planning out maternity outfits, wondering if our little one and I would share a birthday and researching all of the pregnancy “rules” because I remembered shockingly little of them from my pregnancy with Nora.
Cam and I were marvelling at how much faster we were able to get pregnant this time and we were feeling on top of the world.
As it turns out, we were not meant to meet this baby and instead of sharing a pregnancy announcement, I’m writing a post sharing about our early pregnancy loss.
As quickly as our plans were created, they changed. With Nora, I loved taking more tests every few days early on; as a worrier by nature it soothed me to see the lines getting darker because to me it meant everything was progressing well. I didn’t think twice about doing the same this time around, but the lines weren't getting darker, they were getting lighter and they quickly turned into no line at all - my heart sank with every test. After a few days of hoping for things to pick up again, I called our doctor and she ordered blood tests. The tests confirmed my fears and we were told definitively that my tests had fallen into the “negative” category - our pregnancy was not progressing.
As difficult as the process of miscarrying has been, the confusion of living in limbo while I continued to feel pregnant and wait for the inevitable, all while trying to will it not to be true, was far worse and although we will never forget this and as guilty as I feel for acknowledging this, having my body let go, has given some closure that we so needed.
I love sharing stories with you when we’re at the “end”, through the messy parts and out the other side, but I also feel that this platform is a place to share authentically, start a dialogue and lift each other up, so I feel compelled to share this story with you as it unfolds, even in the messy parts. Even with the few we’ve shared with so far, I am blown away by the kindness we’ve received, but also by the shared stories from others - we are far from alone in this experience.
I don’t know how long it will take or what is ahead, but we will move forward with the faith that our little family will expand again someday, at the right time.
In the meantime, as we hold our little family closer than ever and process this ourselves, I also want you to know that if you are experiencing or have experienced pregnancy loss, or if you, for whatever reason, are not feeling yourself right now, I am standing with you and you are not alone.