After several failed pregnany tests, I finally decided to see a doctor to figure out why I wasn't pregnant yet. This was about August/September 2011. I was at the doctor's about two or three times a month for the next three months doing various test, which were supposed to figure out my fertility status. I remember leaving the office every time in tears because I wasn't getting the results I wanted to hear. Then, at my final visit, the doctor came in with information about In-Vitro Fertilization (IVF). My heart sank because I knew he was trying to tell me I would never have children on my own due to my dysfunctional Fallopian tubes and having slight endometriosis. I also remember the thought of never being able to afford such a procedure because my older sister also had to do IVF and the cost was outrageous. For the next few months, I felt jealousy, anger, hurt, and all the above when I would see pregnant women, previously something I admired seeing. It wasn't fair. I felt guilty that Tyler had to go through this with me. Gosh, I wanted him to be a father more than I wanted to be a mother. I always knew I was going to be a mother one day, but why did we have to go through such measures to accomplish this dream? Infertility remains heavy on my mind. What a selfish and inconsiderate condition, that rips dreams away, changes lives, makes people feel so incompetent, and requires at times unaffordable expenses. I hated being considered infertile, which is exactly why I knew from the beginning that I wouldn't let Infertility win this battle.
It's been two years and I still cry over my first miscarriage. My menstral cycles have never been regular, so when I skip a month, it was never alarming to me. However, this time my skipped cycle was different. It was paired with back pains, nausea, fatigue, and more than anything tender breasts. I joked with Tyler about being pregnant, and I even downloaded a frivolous app that scanned my thumb to predict if I was pregnant or not. Results=pregnant! We laughed about it; what a nonsensical tool. I looked up pregnancy symptoms just to keep Tyler laughing, but we were quickly silenced when all the symptoms matched the ones I was feeling. Tyler told me to take another pregnancy test. I struggled with the idea because I was let down by so many in the past. The next morning, I woke up, held in my urine (I knew morning urine was most accurate), went to Wal-Mart and bought the stick. For the first time, a beautiful + symbol slowly appeared. We accomplished something that the doctor didn"t think was possible. I took a picture and sent it to Tyler with tears in my eyes. He called me just estatic! The next two weeks were spent with Tyler being overly causcious about what I ate or did throughout the day. We never mentioned anything to our family, but we thought of all the fun ways we could announce our news. We scheduled a doctor's appointment, but we never made it in.
On November 11, 2012 we celebrated the life of Tyler's Great-grandmother Peterson, who passed away the week prior. We sat surrounded by Tyler's family, some I had never met. Tyler was so excited to see his relatives who he had not seen in years. As much as I wanted to be there, I knew something wasn't right. I sat in excrutiating pain and noticed blood. Tyler never knew the extent of what I was feeling because I wanted to be there, I wanted him to be there, and I knew he would make us leave if he knew. Also, deep down, I knew what the results might have been, and I wasn't ready to accept it. After the burial, I burst into tears, and finally told him what was going on. We were supposed to meet at his mother's house and spent time with his extended family, but he took me to the emergency room instead. There, they did tests and determined that I was 8 weeks pregnant. They told me not to worry too much because a miscarriage would produce heavy blood, which I didn't have. Finally, the sonographer arrived and did my ultrasound. We went in with the biggest grins, but left sick to our stomachs and teary eyed. We sat in the room in silence waiting for the doctor to come back. He came in, and I saw it in his face. Ectopic pregnancy. "It could burst, and you would bleed and die. We have to remove it immediately." I cried harder than I cried in a long time, and Tyler just held me in silence. I knew he was hurting too. Bleed and die or continue on this infertility journey? I didn't know which would be worse.
They hooked me up to tubes and prepped me for surgery-my first surgery. Some nurses held me while I cried, and others tried to joke to relieve any worry. I was scared, angry, heartbroken. I was denied when I asked if Tyler could go in with me; I didn't want to be alone. I told Tyler not to tell anyone because I was too ashamed, and I knew everyone would be worried and mournful. I woke up hooked to a machine and saw Tyler's mother in tears. I was in the hospital overnight, and the doctor came in informing us that they removed the embryo as well as my right Fallopian tube (my only tube that was at least somewhat functional, up until my ectopic pregnancy). I was devastated. I didn't know what to do next or how to move on. I missed being pregnant instantly. Our unborn baby brought me so much joy, happiness, hope, and love. I was so surprised by how much love and how bonded I could feel to something inside of me before even seeing it. Before too long, I received calls and texts from my family, Tyler's family, and I received a priesthood blessing from Uncle Ian. My sister came up to be there for us. We received dinners from Aunt Leesa and Uncle Anthony. The love and support was so comforting, but no effort ended my pain.
Thankfully, it was a holiday weekend, which gave me an extra day off work. The following Tuesday, I put on a brave face and walked into work. As I look back, I'm grateful that Tyler made me take a pregnancy test. I would've confused my pain and bleeding as a menstral period, and I could've been in more trouble. The love and support that was offered meant so much to me. We had people crying and praying for us. We are so blessed to be able to feel so much love. Just knowing others care so much for you is overwhelmingly appreciated.
This miscarriage changed me, matured me, made me realize how much more there is to life, and most importantly, made me a mother. My baby, our baby had wings. Although I cannot hold my baby in my arms, my baby will always be with me. My baby was apart of me, even if for a short amount of time, and I will be forever grateful to my baby for bringing me so much and the short time we spent together.
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