I was pregnant and now I'm not

I was pregnant and now I’m not.

The pain is suffocating.

Before I tell you about it I should preface that I do have a pituitary tumor and my chance of miscarrying was high. I knew that was a risk even before I had became pregnant.

All my life I pictured myself adopting if I were to have kids— and I still see that for myself.

I felt this on a deep intuitive level and I was also influenced by doctors who would always tell me I could get pregnant, but should I get pregnant was another story. They were cautionary because of my lifelong bladder issues and the brain tumor.

I had never had a doctor make me feel like it should be something I should try until October of 2023 when suddenly— doctors started telling me they’d give me the green light to start trying if I was ever considering it. Levels were looking the best they had in years and I even had some new perspectives when it came to my bladder- them telling me there was a small chance pregnancy could possibly help, not hinder, my bladder.

Dan and I, for the first time in five years, asked ourselves- Do we try? Do we consider this?

My naturopath tells me I should wait to start trying for a few more months because she’d like to see some of the levels improve even more (sex hormones that are often affected by the tumor.)

I talk to God about it daily. I’m excited (and scared) at the possibility. I feel behind my peers as I had never even considered myself getting pregnant until that moment. I tell God how scared I am due to my health issues, so that if he could make it really clear that I am supposed to have a baby, it would help my worries immensely. “Just make it blaringly clear, God. Please.” I would ask him.

Two months later I fell pregnant without even trying. I didn’t think I was ovulating.

It’s the second day of January 2024 and I’m sitting in a coffee shop with my best friend Jamie. We’re coworking, and I can’t get it out of my mind that I feel different. Not bad, not off… just teetering from my baseline. My cycle is always 31-33 days. It’s day 32 so I don’t think much about it. I walk back to my car and can’t shake this feeling that maybe I should take a pregnancy test. Even though I’m certain I’m not pregnant.

I go to a gas station, go to the bathroom, and come out completely changed. I’m pregnant.

I drive to the store to get a few more pregnancy tests and sure enough, I am pregnant. When I tell you that never in my life has something happened so suddenly and I didn’t even need half a second to know I wanted this. All my life I didn’t know if I wanted this and here it was and I wanted nothing more.

Dan is in the other room on the phone with his friend- I hear them deep in convo. While he’s doing that and completely unaware of what’s happening in the other room- I call my parents. My sister. Some of my girlfriends. I barely even remember our conversations because I am in shock. I’m talking to all of them in my closet so Dan can’t hear me.

I hear him wrapping up his conversation so I line up the tests, put my phone on “voice recording” and call Dan into the room.

We cry. We hug for so long. In that moment we both felt bliss like we hadn’t ever felt.

We go to ice cream, we’re just nonstop smiling. Suddenly life is different for us.

I talk to my doctors. I know this pregnancy is risky but I can’t help but think this pregnancy was meant from God and our baby is going to make its way into our arms.

Dan and I have a hard time having big things happen to us and not telling people we love. I know we were “supposed” to wait, but we were so optimistic and excited, we couldn’t help it. (I don’t regret telling people.)

We clear out an entire room to be the baby’s room.

We buy the books.

We’re talking about it every night, joyfully running through all the “what ifs” of our future child.

Dan’s Grandmother holds my hands for 30 seconds straight as she tells me she’s been waiting for this day.

My parents, who never pressured me to have kids, tell me they can’t wait for this baby.

Every day I am picturing myself as a Mom and feeling so enchanted and euphoric at the thought.

I see in Dan a change. He is so excited to be Dad.

A little over 7 weeks we learn there is no heartbeat. The baby is not alive. And I either wait to pass the baby naturally or have the D&C surgery.

Oddly I first feel bad for the OBGYN who had to deliver the news. I could tell she wanted/expected to console me but I kept my face unemotional. Crying in front of strangers is something I struggle with. Even though sometimes it’s best to do the human thing and freaking cry.

She leaves the room and Dan comes to hug me. I have misguided anger and push him away emotionally. He needs emotional support too, but all I want is to be alone.

We go up to the next floor of the building for some lab work. I go into the room and start balling my eyes out in front of the technician about to draw my blood. She’s very young and I can tell it’s awkward for her. I apologize and put out my arm. I have to be poked six times before she gets my vein (and I have an amazing vein in my arm) and I almost have to laugh because when it rains it really does pour.

I’m in such emotional pain I barely even feel her sticking me again and again. I just stare at the wall feeling complete shock.

We leave and I’m lashing out emotionally in the car. It’s directed at the world but Dan can’t help but feel it’s at him. We get home and I lock myself in a room and cry and cry and cry. I’m so angry. At myself. At God.

The only people I want to talk to are my girlfriends. I can’t speak. But I can text. The responses roll in as I lay on my tear-drenched pillow. On your worst days you often ask yourself- but what went right? They were what went right.

Old friends. New friends. My God how lucky I am. (And of course the best Mom in the world. No matter how old I get- I just want my Mom when things go wrong.)

It’s not until the next day that I return “home” to Dan. I let him in. I apologize for my first “stage” of grief. Anger. I let myself get vulnerable and I sob for a long time. I look up and realize he lost this baby too. His grief is different but it’s just as valid.

The day after learning of the loss I have to go to work. Emotionally drained and on very little sleep. Work ends up being a blessing because my being able to compartmentalize reminds me that I am strong. Even though in between clients I seek out empty parking lots to sit and cry in.

When I get home it’s back to the bedroom in solitude. I watch on my Ring girlfriends and couriers coming and going dropping off flowers and care packages for me. More texts to let me know I am thought of (those texts meant a lot.) Dan checks on me every hour. God’s loving presence is warm. I tell him I’m so sorry I got angry with him (and I mean it) and now I just really need his comfort.

I felt loved. And held.

We need people, each other, to make it through.

I am somewhere between the depression and acceptance stage of my grief. It is true that God is close to the brokenhearted because I feel Him. And I know he has a reason for this even though I can’t see it now. I know he does. And even with this tremendous loss, I praise Him. He is a good, good father.

I research how women react to miscarriages and there is so much I relate to. Like the fear of getting pregnant again- or rather not being able to get pregnant again. I fear the miscarriage that is coming. My body still registers itself as pregnant even though my baby is no longer alive.

Currently I pray and pray and pray for a natural passing of this baby. I already have so many pelvic floor issues that I fear a D&C would set me back a great deal. I also have so much medical trauma with my pelvic floor that the idea of being put out for such an intimate surgery is too much for me. If it comes to that, I’ll handle it because I’ll have to, but I know it’s going to be traumatic.

So I pray and I pray. God, please let me pass this baby naturally.

***I live in Texas so I do not have access to the pill that helps facilitate miscarriage… even though the baby is not alive.

A thing I find I don’t relate to with other women who have learned of no heartbeat/miscarriage is being triggered by pregnancy announcements or baby showers. Truly these things give me hope, knowing that one day that could be me. But I know everyone is different.

Like other women who have been in my shoes, I worry that the magic of pregnancy will be stolen from me if I am to ever get pregnant again. I don’t know how I wouldn’t spend the whole time worrying.

I see one woman’s video, she is around my age (36), who miscarried and says she now wishes she had tried earlier in life. I wish I could hug her. Me, I do believe in God’s timing and I know I was not meant to experience this until this point in my life. Any earlier, it would not have worked. (May that woman get her baby.)

But oh do I feel, deeply, for the women who have been trying a long time. Maybe even experiencing losses along the way. God be with those women. Prop them upright with your comfort and peace and hope. I cannot imagine.

Today I had no clients as my prior week had been overly stacked. I wake up and immediately go back to sleep- not wanting to face the day. Dan tells me (gently, but also with a little tough love which doesn’t work for everyone but does for me) that I need to regain some sense of normalcy today otherwise I’m going to fall into reclusive habits of mine. “Hiding” has always been my vice. And it’s not a good one. He tells me he believes in me and that I just gotta do it. I gotta get up. Face the day.

I take his advice and do more “normal” things. Finishing work projects. Cleaning. Haven’t yet gotten on a call or seen anyone yet (except my Mom- we did speak on the phone.) But I’ll get there this week I’m sure. I just feel fragile because when I talk about it out loud I start crying.

I know I have great strength in me. And I’m already on my way to getting through this. I’m already making sense of it. It is a blessing and curse that all my life, each day I am keenly aware that life is short. And it’s hard. So we need to celebrate and rejoice where we can.

This natural predisposition of mine is a curse because it makes me emotionally sensitive as everything, everything, feels important. But it also makes me emotionally brave. It makes life rich. Colorful. The highs and lows of it all… life is both so tragic and beautiful. And I’m showing up for it all.

God has plans for me. I have plans. And only so much time to fulfill them. I can’t stay sad forever. I want to finish the race strong. I love being happy. I don’t want that to leave me. I don’t want to wake up everyday feeling angry or jipped. So I’m choosing to feel full in the life I do have. Knowing more can come (a baby) but even if it doesn’t- this life is still more than enough for me.

God. My husband. My friends. My family. You. Although I do pray for a baby, this is enough for me.

Love to all the women who have gone through loss. I don’t know that the pain will ever fully leave us but we do have a beautiful life ahead.

I’m with you.