I know some people wouldn't talk about this, and would just move on like nothing happened, but as you all know at this point, I am an oversharer. And when things happen to me, I talk about them. So.
Over Thanksgiving break, I noticed that my period was late. And it kept getting later. I started noticing the tell-tale signs of pregnancy, but continued to dismiss them and not get my hopes up. But eventually I couldn't handle the wondering anymore. On Thanksgiving day, Cary and I went to the store to buy a pregnancy test. With everyone milling about at our homes, I didn't trust my acting abilities enough to not to blow it that something was up. So, like a nervous teenage girl, I took the pregnancy test in the stall of the grocery store bathroom. 2 minutes tortuously ticked by and I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw the word "Pregnant" staring back at me. I rushed outside, shaking and holding the stick towards Cary like I was worried it would explode. Cary hugged me and held me so tight and I kept saying over and over again, "I'm pregnant. I'm. Pregnant. I'm PREGNANT!" I was so terrified and excited and shocked and amazed and scared and thrilled. I filled the entire emotional spectrum. We told our parents that day, but decided to keep it under wraps until after I'd seen the doctor and the pregnancy had progressed a little further.
That night, I decided to take another test, just to confirm. It came out negative. Strange. But I knew that the hormone concentration could be lower at night, so I didn't worry too much. I took another test in the morning. Also negative. Very strange. At this point I was getting a little freaked out. Over the next week, I took almost a dozen pregnancy tests. 4 positives, 4 with very faint second lines, and 3 negatives. To say I was confused would be an understatement. When I finally got back from our wonderful thanksgiving vacation, I went and got a blood test. The blood test came back positive! Finally, the drama was over! We called our parents and told them and finally allowed ourselves to celebrate the joyful news! I thought the roller coaster of emotions was over.
This morning I woke up at 4 in the morning to pain and bleeding. We went to the emergency room and after tests and ultrasounds, we found out that we lost the baby. I was supposed to be 7 weeks tomorrow. I feel very fortunate to have had such kind and compassionate doctors and nurses. They took care of me and made me feel normal for mourning the loss of our baby. We've only known about this pregnancy for a few weeks, but a few weeks is long enough to get attached to the idea of bringing a baby home. To (happily) put educational and career plans on hold. To imagine rearranging the guest room to be a baby's room. To picture my belly growing and feeling our baby kick. To stock my purse with gum and crackers to help relieve the new nausea I was feeling. To long to meet the baby that would have made us a family of 3.
I know that this isn't really the tragic stuff that Lifetime movies are made from. And I know that many pregnancies end in miscarriage, and that most women go on to have healthy babies afterwards. And I know we'll be okay. But right now we're really sad. And that's okay too.