I woke up yesterday with so much anxiety just sitting on my chest. It’s going to be the day I found out what I did wrong; why Jensen’s little sibling died. There has to be something wrong with my body or maybe I had been in the wrong while pregnant. My brain is starving for some sort of answers and steps for if I would have another child in the future.
As usual, I put off getting ready for my appointment till the last-minute. Somehow I think if I just act like I don’t have to do something, it’ll magically become reality. Then all I knew I was in my mom’s car and we were talking about… I forget what. My thoughts were consumed. I should be out of the first trimester and getting excited to find out the sex of my child. Not this. Going up to another post-death appointment for one of my children. My nails, that I’ve tried so hard not biting lately, were bitten down so much. All while my mom kept talking. I feel so bad, I should have paid more attention to what she was saying.
When we got to the office, I swear every pregnant person my doctor sees was there.
A few weeks after New Years, I stopped really paying attention to those big pregnant bellies. Sometimes they’re just unavoidable. Well, after my miscarriage, I just want to not see pregnant people. Also, why isn’t there such a thing in the doctor’s office as a designated loss mom appointment day or maybe a little side waiting room. No, the mental torture I was already in just magnified. I probably looked like a complete bitch sitting there not making eye contact with these joyous women and the off-chance I did, I didn’t smile back.
My name finally got called twenty minutes after my appointment time. I didn’t mind the wait time, I get it. Everyone waits, I just wasn’t in the best of moods. The nurse asks, almost too peppy, how I was feeling and just smiles back at me. Again, remember my heavy anxiety and overall hellish weeks and months I’ve had. Coldly, I told her I could be doing much better and stared back. I thought that’d be it, no more dumb questions or statements, but that’s not my luck.
Now I don’t know what’s on my medical charts, but I’m guessing the nurse knew I was there because of a D&C due to a miscarriage. I’m also guessing, that my past history, you know my son dying at thirty-eight weeks in my womb, would also be in there. Thankfully she took my blood pressure when we first got in the room because it skyrocketed soon after.
I’m Jensen’s and this baby’s voice and I will never deny them as my children. They died, but they lived too. I am theirs and they are mine.
This nurse, doing her job I understand, looks me straight in my eyes and says, ‘you have no children, right?’ My loss mama heart fired up and said, ‘yes, my son was stillborn last year. Last April.’
Then it was like a slap in my face.
‘And you just had a miscarriage, but you don’t have any children.’
I felt all the blood in my whole body boil. Then I repeated, ‘I have a son. Unfortunately, he died, but he is my child. So I don’t have any living children, but I do have children.’ Somehow I didn’t scream it at her, maybe that’s because I was trying to keep the tears that were filling up my eyes from falling down my face.
She just nodded and gave me this look of pity. It was so demeaning, like she thought I was just grasping at these straws to be a mom. Then she left.
There have been many times in just the past two weeks where I’ve felt so low and down. Even in this state, I never questioned my motherhood or my value. But in that room, I felt stripped down and worthless. This invisible motherhood felt taken away from me, like the time I had with Jensen and all that I do to mother him now didn’t matter. How can you devalue someone in such a vulnerable state and place.
So many emotions and thoughts flew around before the knock at the door halted them all. The time was here where he was going to tell me I was broken and that my womb was a death-ground for my babies.
I physically felt my fingers tighten the seat underneath me. Then everything happened all at once.
‘Don’t try again for two months.’
‘Keep taking your prenatal vitamins.’
‘Baby’s results won’t be here till Monday, call us then.’
‘There should be no problem during future pregnancies.’
‘Call us as soon as you get pregnant again.’
My head was still in a whirlwind from getting all that information in a matter of five seconds. Just as they started walking out, my mom started asking questions because none of mine were coming out.
Not to get into the entirety of their conversation, I’ll give you the quick details. Pretty much, all my blood work and testing has come back completely normal, again. I did extensive testing after Jensen was born. They didn’t find anything abnormal with me. There was no answers as to why this happened other than it just happened. I should be able to have healthy, living children in the future. Of course I’ll get extra monitoring in future pregnancies. But there’s nothing else I could’ve done to prevent this miscarriage or Jensen’s death for that matter.
I should be ‘happy’ to get that information. I know it.
There’s so many women who definitely cannot have children naturally. It happens to so many and it’s heartbreaking. That desire to grow a baby in your belly is such a natural one. I get that and I can’t imagine getting that news for myself.
With that being said, I was angry walking out of the doctor’s office today. Why is there no answers that loss struck me again? What more could I have done? Isn’t there any explanation as to why I do have a death-ground womb? I have so many questions that are just left unanswered, just to try again and do monitoring. My brain cannot accept that is the only half answer I’m getting; but that’s what I’ve gotten from three different doctors.
To say the day was anything but stressful would be a complete understatement.
I don’t really know what the future has to hold for me right now. There’s some options that I have been considering, but I’m going to see how I feel in two cycles and go from there. When I first lost Jensen, I didn’t want another baby. It took me a while to be ‘okay’ with giving him a sibling. Right now, I don’t know. Yes, I want a living child in my arms SO bad, but I’m not strong enough to keep experiencing loss. It’s just a question that will only be answered with time and a lot of thought.
Anyways, I just wanted to keep you all in the loop with what happened. I appreciate all the positive thoughts, vibes, and prayers you all sent my way.