Weezy

Since my last post about love, I must say things in my life have shifted quite drastically. As some of you may know, or even if you have simply read my blog, my husband and I have wanted a baby for quite some time now, well, almost two years to be exact. Just like most months, my period came a few days late, and instead of rushing to the store for a pregnancy test the day it's late I decided to wait. I figured it was nothing and I would yet again be disappointed by another negative test, and the repeat cycle of drowning my sorrows with another bottle of wine and pandora radio. So on Sunday February 16, at approximately 7 pm I took a test...and I noticed a faint positive and immediately ran to buy two more before I got my hopes up; all three positive. At that moment I began to fall on my knees and thank God for what I had been praying towards for so long. It finally happened. My husband was at band practice at the time, so I basically walked around in a circle until he came home. I handed him a brown paper bag with all three tests inside. We were both speechless. 

The next day I decided to go take another test at the doctor's office to make sure, I received a "Congratulations! You're pregnant!" They estimated me at about 4 & 1/2 weeks. I have never been so excited. We decided we couldn't wait to tell our immediate family and close friends so we did that very night, knowing that it could be a risk we were taking. Why live in fear though right? 

I began noticing a few symptoms but I didn't mind them a bit. We talked about baby names, and all the other details that come with the news of finding out you will be a parent. My brain was clouded with warm fuzzy feelings of being a mother, I couldn't focus on much else.

About a week and 1/2 after I found out, I began bleeding, and heavily cramping. After being quite worried I called the doctor as soon as they opened, and they basically said lay down and it should stop. I couldn't wait so I decided to see another local doctor who was willing to see me.

I went in fairly positive that it was probably nothing, and had blood tested. I had to wait an hour to find out my results. My husband decided to go back with me. While sitting in the purple room listening to the awful classical music swirling in my head fear set it. As soon as the doctor sat down I heard the first few words and the rest were hazy after , "your numbers are very low." 

My heart dropped, I felt so sick, and like my world was crashing down. He then checked me and confirmed that I was indeed having a miscarriage. I looked at my husband and fell apart. All I could think was how can two people with as much love as us, with no real health problems,  have this happen? 

I gathered my things and left out, while seeing pregnant women in the waiting room that already have about 6 kids swarming around them I honestly wanted to punch them right in the face. It just so happens that as soon as I walk out of the doctor's office my mother who knows nothing yet is pulling up to drop off my grandmother's prescription. I didn't say a word and she knew what was wrong. My husband, mother, and I sat in silence for 3 hours. That same night in the news was a story in Mobile about a mother throwing her 2 day old baby in the trash and the baby not making it.  The next few days were basically a blur, filled with family and friends taking care of me and bringing me food. Thanks to them I made it, a special thanks to my niece who saved me at that very moment by just laying with me. 

It's odd how common miscarriage is because you rarely hear people talk about it. Just the word "miscarriage" sounds wrong, like the woman did some thing bad to their body and just weren't fit to have a healthy baby. Until it actually happens to you, you won't hear much about it, but hearing stories of other people going through the same thing actually helps.

The thing is most people don't realize, at the moment you find out you are pregnant, you are attached mentally and physically to the little life inside you, and when told that life is no more, you have lost a child, not just a little ball of cells or embryo or whatever term makes it sound less human. And it hurts like hell. I honestly have to say I have never been through anything this difficult. Though through this at least I now know I am capable of getting pregnant, which is wonderful.

My husband and I decided to get away for the weekend and I packed lots of wine, while we headed for the lake at a very kind friend's lake house. It's odd how little things can slowly stitch back together your soul; laying by my husband, music, seeing the water. All of these things helped. You see what your love with someone really is in a time like this. I have to say my husband and I have never been closer and I thank God he is stronger than me, in that I know he is grieving too. 

My husband Shannon and I at Lake Martin, beginning to feel a touch better.

The view

I know this is long, but I want to share this for a few reasons; one is to help myself. Another is to show you all who have never been through this to hug and kiss your children and thank God they are here. Also, if you are pregnant , no one wants to hear you constantly complain about being pregnant, there are plenty of people who would gladly trade places with you in a second. And last, for those of you who may have gone through this, I am writing for you also.

It's also funny how things happen in your life that are symbols of other things, while pregnant, I bought a coconut, thinking it would be cool to drain and drink the water, and eat the meat, as I had never done it before. After showing it to my husband and talking about how excited I was he pointed out a small crack, and shook it, no water inside. I was still hopeful that it was still fine so I sat it on the table. The day that all of this happened, I noticed the crack had became larger, and I popped it open, and as I had held onto a little hope, it was indeed rotten inside. It all hit me at this point of the unfair and never ending cycle of life. 

All of your prayers would be greatly appreciated.

-Meg