In Bloom Doula Services

When I found out I was pregnant for the third time, on November 1st, I had a lot of mixed feelings. I had tried for 8 months to get pregnant, so it felt a bit surreal to finally have what I had wanted after what seemed like so long of waiting. I was happy, but busy and overwhelmed with the upcoming days: a birthday party to host, fall festival, some shifts at work. I felt like I could really soak it in later. I was also terrified about the reality of have three kids under 4. Yes, I wanted this, but did I really think it through? Could I really handle this?

On November 6th, I lost the pregnancy. I wrote about it here.

I felt confused, mad, heartbroken, guilty. Did I not appreciate the baby enough? Was I not taking care of myself enough? Was it God’s way of telling me I was ungrateful?

Exactly three months prior, it was my first day to stay home with my boys as a stay at home mom. I would have been going back to work as a teacher on that day, but instead I was living out the dream I had always wanted. I also knew I was due to take a pregnancy test that day, so I woke up early to take one, and planned to surprise Nathan when he got home with a baby #3 announcement. Except I got a negative test, and when I wiped I saw blood. I was incredibly disappointed, sad even. I sat on the couch feeling sorry for myself only to realize I was wasting a really beautiful new beginning on being upset about yet another thing I wanted, but didn’t have. I tried to take a step back from “trying to conceive.” and reminded myself it would happen when the time was right.

So during the miscarriage I couldn’t help but feel guilty that I somehow made my own baby disappear by my lack of gratefulness. I regretted every thought I had about not being able to go to the ranch on the 4th of July, or the client I had to turn down because we had the same due date, or the fear that consumed me when I thought about day to day life getting a little more crazy. I worried I’d never feel a baby kick my belly from the inside again, or never hold my newborn and smell their sweet newborn head. I worried I’d only have two kids and that my life dream of a big family wouldn’t happen, and that I’d never have a daughter. I worried I’d keep having loss after loss and wasn’t sure I could handle that.

I knew we’d try again, but didn’t know if I wanted to wait and give this baby it’s own time and hold it’s space, or if I should just jump right back into it and move forward in hopes of escaping the fear of the unknown and the what ifs.

So, against the advice of my midwife, we did not prevent another pregnancy. I would not say we “tried” for a pregnancy, but the thought of keeping what I wanted to happen from having a chance seemed wrong to me.

On December 20th, I took a test because it was 6 weeks after the miscarriage with no cycle. I was not hopeful at all. I wasn’t expecting a positive. I just wanted an answer. I took the test mostly out of curiosity, wondering what was going on with my body, and wanting to eliminate that possibility.

At first I saw nothing, and felt the sting of another negative, but when I checked back in a few minuets I saw a faint line. Adrenaline pumped through me and I thought “no way, this can’t be real. Who gets pregnant right away after a miscarriage?” I tried to talk myself out of it. Surly it’s just leftover HCG. This is a false positive. I had taken a test a week prior to a stark negative result, but surely this test was just more sensitive. I decided I would retest in two days to see if the line got darker, which would tell me the HCG was increasing (showing a pregnancy, as opposed to decreasing, which is a miscarriage.)

Sure enough on Sunday, it was darker, and I started to get really excited, but also really nervous. I contemplated telling our family on Christmas day, and thought that would be weird following the news of a loss. I worried they wouldn’t be happy for us, or excited about a new grandbaby, niece/nephew, or cousin because they might think I will lose this one too.

I realized I felt embarrassed to tell people I was pregnant again. And ashamed. As if everyone must be thinking “what, you can’t wait a month? What is wrong with you?” I felt like it wasn’t fair that I only had to wait 6 weeks for hopeful happy news again, while some are still waiting, and wishing, and wondering, “why not me?”

I told myself, well what if everything is ok, and this baby does make it? Shouldn’t you treat it like any other pregnancy, shouldn’t it be celebrated like you normally do? Shouldn’t it be prayed for? Shouldn’t you be excited, happy, proud of and grateful for this new life you have been gifted? I never believed in keeping pregnancy a secret before. I never waited to tell anyone we were expecting. I even wrote a blog about it when I announced I was pregnant with Waylon at just over 6 weeks.

So I decided I would treat this pregnancy like I normally would and we would tell our family on Christmas. I made ornaments for our parents, and siblings, and surprised them with our new news. I started telling friends, and people at church as the days and weeks went on. I finally decided to schedule my first appointment with my midwife which I both dreaded and longed for at the same time.

I was embarrassed to tell her I was pregnant again after she told me to wait a cycle. I was fearful that I would get there, get an ultrasound and I would hear that there is “nothing there” again. I was also eager to confirm this pregnancy and hear a heartbeat, get a due date, and see if everything is ok. And thankfully, everything was. I heard a heartbeat in the 130s. I got a due date of August 29th. I saw a perfectly round little yolk sac and I took a sigh of relief that my appointment didn’t jinx a loss like it had two months earlier.

Then three days later I got a phone call that my progesterone levels were “in the lower end of the normal range.” A normal first trimester level is 11-40 something. I was coming in at 13, which made me very concerned. I was prescribed an oral progesterone and have remained on it throughout the first trimester. And honestly, I just wanted the first trimester to end. Nothing has been fun or exciting like before. It has been worrisome and tiring. I have very little energy and have been “taking it easy.” But I spend everyday googling images of what a miscarriage looks like at 7 weeks, 9 weeks, 10 and a half weeks. Scared that I will have to pass another baby too soon, but will have to actually see this baby face to face, as opposed to inspecting a weird clump of tissue that I think is my 6 week baby.

I check the toilet paper for blood every time I wipe, quickly bracing myself for what I may see. I worry that my belly isn’t growing like it did with Waylon, and haven’t had the irresistible urge to tell any and every person I see that I am pregnant again. I for some reason just want to keep this baby to myself and never let it go. I suddenly find myself questioning, “do I even want to tell people at 12 weeks?” I feel guilty for getting too excited about this baby, as if I’m not sad enough about the one before, but then if I spend too much time feeling sad about that baby I feel like a selfish dirtbag for not appreciating the new life I get to carry. I can’t win for losing in my own mind.

I’ve feel detached from this “rainbow baby” idea, as if that is for mothers with “real” losses. Who had real miscarriages, or still births. Who had infertility for years. Am I doing a disservice to those moms who struggled and grieved so long and hard, by having an experience that doesn’t compare and then claiming the rainbow as my own? I feel guilty for pinning that title on this new little person as if they have to live in the shadow of a baby I wish were here, but if that baby were here, I wouldn’t have this baby in my belly right now, and I don’t know how to feel about that. I just want them both, and since that can’t happen I am stuck in these conflicting emotions.

Then I remind myself not to compare, and that despite the way my grief and sadness may make me question my loss- it did and does matter. There was life, and there was death, and I am allowed to feel every part of it. It was a loss and a storm because that baby was very much wanted and is very much missed. And now I can’t help but take that little soul into consideration when I think about this new one, who is indeed a rainbow.

Hitting the second trimester is another relief. Feeling movements will put me at ease. I think 20 weeks for the anatomy scan and seeing them move and learning the sex will help make them feel real and be comforting. And 24 weeks marks “viability,” so from then on I think I will just be longing for the end of the pregnancy so I can hold another newborn against my chest and smell that sweet newborn smell and feel that soft newborn skin. Look into another face that I’ll get to love forever and meet the new person who will become ours.

I always had heard pregnancy after loss could be complicated, but I didn’t know it would feel like this. Despite my conflicting ideas about claiming this baby as a “rainbow” baby, I do identify with it. I have very much held onto the song “Rainbow” by Kacey Musgraves.

“So tie up the boat, take off your coat, and take a look around, everything is alright now.” Just really hits me hard. It feels a little too good to be true and a little hard to believe that I get another baby. This time I am not letting a moment go by without feeling grateful for this little life.