It was late February, and Kent and I were sitting anxiously in the Doctor's office. We were waiting to hear if our fears were correct, waiting to know if our baby had died. Our fears were confirmed and our lives changed forever. That baby we had prayed about and prayed for, the baby we were excitedly expecting was gone.
We were at the beginning of our second trimester. I was just starting to relax, the worry of miscarriage was all but gone. Things had been going well. I had normal pregnancy issues like nausea, and I was relieved that my Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) had gone into remission (that can happen when you are pregnant). Ultra-Sounds had shown us a beautiful healthy baby.
The decision to have another baby was not an easy one to make. The meds I take for RA are dangerous to take during pregnancy and take quite a bit of time to leave your system. I also knew that while I might go into remission during pregnancy, I would definitely flare after the baby was born. I remembered how hard it was after H was born. I couldn't open doors, change diapers or even pick him up at times. The constant pain was crippling. I didn't know if I could do that again, but Kent and I felt prompted by the Spirit. We knew we needed to try for another baby.
Because of other health issues, a D&C was recommended and I tearfully went to the hospital the next day. It was SO hard. I knew I would be leaving without the baby. I would no longer be pregnant. I was heartbroken.
Loosing the baby was heart wrenching, but there were even more challenges in my path. I had anticipated an RA flare after we had a baby, I didn't think about a flare after loosing a baby. It turns out your body doesn't care if you have a baby in your arms or not. About 3 days after the surgery it hit me, hard. Because we wanted to have another baby, and because I had just had surgery, the medications I take were not an option.
The pain seemed to mock me. I was willing to sacrifice for a baby, but the pain just felt hollow and empty now. The other symptoms of RA didn't help my dark state of mind either. The physical and mental fatigue, and lack of strength made it hard to just function. I felt sad, useless and heartbroken.
The entire time, I tried to stay positive. We could try for another baby. It wouldn't replace the one we lost, but I knew holding that healthy baby in my arms would help heal the wound in my heart. I felt like God had directed us down this path, so everything would work out. Once agin, I had no idea what challenges were ahead.
Three months had passed since we lost the baby, and still my body had not returned to normal. The Dr. recommended we wait until my cycles returned to try for another baby, but that hadn't happened yet. I went back to the Dr. for tests and blood work. I was worried, but I worry about everything. I tried to tell myself everything was fine and I was just paranoid. The Dr.'s face told a different story.
He called a few days later with the odd bad news. Everything was fine. If everything is fine and nothing is happening, it turns out it is not good. A few weeks later I went in for a test/procedure. After 2 hours of agonizing pain (seriously, worst pain of my life...and K was born naturally!), they decided there was so much scar tissue they couldn't get any results.
A few weeks after that Kent and I sat in the office of a specialist where he informed us I had Asherman's Syndrome and it was pretty severe. Basically, my uterus had fused together. Sometimes the scarring is localized and they can reopen things. I was not so lucky. Our hopes and dreams of another baby were gone. I felt hollow inside.
Now, the loss of our little one hit even harder. It was our last chance and we never knew. I not only morned for the baby we lost, but for the babies we would never be able to hold and love. My future looked shattered and unrecognizable.
(There is a part 2 and it is happier, it was just getting too long.)
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