An Emotional Roller Coaster

We are standing at the end of the island. The sun is hot, the spray from the ocean cools our skin. The waves crash against the rocks and pull the shore out to sea, one grain of sand at a time. Driftwood, shells, and rocks have been beached over the years. Most people would be contemplating the wonders of the universe and the beauty of the world. I feel the sun and hear the waves, but inside I am experiencing a hurricane. Emotions are roiling around inside me, and the last several months are replaying like a movie montage in my mind. It is an emotional roller coaster.

On June 1, we found out we were pregnant. You hear the saying, "I just knew I was pregnant." Well, I knew but it did not seem possible. In October 2011, I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. Basically, my body does not ovulate. Without ovulation you cannot get pregnant. My Reproductive Endocrinologist said I had the most cystic ovaries he had ever seen. I opted to have ovarian drilling surgery with the hope of getting rid of the cysts and balancing my hormones. The surgery took place in February 2012. It was pretty awful, but I recovered fairly quickly. My body began to regulate itself.

Less than three months after surgery, on Cycle Day 59, I ovulated for the first time in my life. Considering "normal" ovulation occurs around Cycle Day 14, we had decided the surgery had not worked. Somehow, the fates aligned and 13 days later I knew.

I woke up June 1, nauseated and tired. Ten minutes later I was headed to the store to buy a test. Standing in our bathroom, my heart was pounding as I watched the first line and then a second appear. The second line was so faint, I almost convinced myself I was imagining it. In need of a second opinion, I took a picture and sent a text to Richie. "Do you see 2 lines?" is not the way to tell your spouse you think you might be pregnant.

Two days and five tests later, it started to sink in. A blood test came back positive with a Beta HCG count of 62, which was great. I cried, Richie kissed my belly, and we celebrated the impossible. We told our immediate family and I remember thinking, "It doesn't get better than this. This is the best day of my life."

The next day I could not dodge this bad feeling, a premonition of sorts. That afternoon I went to the bathroom and there was blood, not a lot but enough to make my heart stop. I prayed aloud, "Oh, no. God, please. No." I called my nurse who tried to reassure me with, "Spotting is normal in early pregnancy."

My follow-up blood test the next day should have been over 125, but it was only 78. "It could be a blip," my nurse said. "We will check again in 2 days and have a better idea of what's going on." We did not make it 2 days. That night there was more blood. This time it was bright red and heavy. The on-call nurse told us, "We worried this might happen. With numbers like yours we classify it as a 'suspected' miscarriage."

My ears started ringing, and I could not get air into my lungs. Richie held me, and we both cried. The grief was palpable, and it felt like our world was caving in. "We were pregnant for 6 days," I said. The night passed, the sky brightened, and I eventually fell asleep while tears streamed down my face. It is hard to believe that this was just the beginning of our loss.