Friday, February 6, 2015

Such things.

I debated somewhat writing this post. I have purposefully avoided talking so much about personal matters on this blog. Still, it feels nice being able to have a space somewhere to relate such a life altering event that most people will never know about.

I posted here before one or two of my miscarriages. I am happy when other people feel open in discussing theirs, but, I myself, go back and forth in what I want other people to know about; namely: Facebook. Facebook, oh, Facebook. It can be nice for some things, but other times it is just too overwhelming. Thus, my little blog that most people don't know about.

I do wonder though, why do I even want to write publicly at all about my struggles? I used to be content in filling journals, quite private, and overflowing with emotion.

I suppose that is another topic. At any rate, I've had four miscarriages, then this. A few weeks ago, I found out that I was pregnant. It was quite remarkable, because I haven't been able to for quite some time. I immediately had blood tests every other day or so to check hormone levels. I passed the point where I lost most of my previous pregnancies with very high hormone levels; it looked perfect. Of course, I always knew and always have known, that getting past the first week doesn't mean much, but for my history, it was a very good sign.

I had my first ultrasound at 5 weeks. I was apprehensive, but very excited to get a peak at the baby. When nothing showed, at first, on the screen, inwardly, my heart sunk before the technician sadly declared, "It's a tubal pregnancy."

That was it. I couldn't believe it. There are some moments in life that feel completely surreal and that was one of them.

I don't need to explain the process that followed- it is all that one would expect. More tests, other people to confirm it, no doubt about it- I was even starting to get pains in my side. I had thought I had pulled a muscle a few days before and hadn't thought much of it since the pain wasn't very consistent, nor was it quite severe; still it was there.

I get to this point and just stop writing. This is where, when talking to friends I often gloss over it, using as non-descriptive words as possible for one part, while emphasizing the life threatening position that it puts the mother in and, in my particular case, that there was absolutely no possibility of saving the child.

The child that I had begged God for. The child that I had thought about endlessly for nearly four years, just hoping that we would have another chance. The child that, though so small, I already felt so much love for.

I had a wonderful two weeks of being pregnant. I knew that it might end poorly. I tried so hard not to fret about it every hour of the day. I decided that I would simply live in the moment, thanking God for each hour I could carry a child once again. It might sound dramatic, but A) I am a dramatic person and B) I've had baby fever for years.

I told some friends that I was pregnant. I decided that worrying over miscarrying wouldn't make it better, so just living as if everything would be fine would at least make my time, however short, much happier. I am so glad that I did that, because out of the deep sadness of the last weeks, that was such a joyous time.

Honestly, I don't know how I could have made it through this without my spiritual father. Our bishop too, who teaches ethics at seminary, saved my sanity. People have prayed for me before during various life events- I don't mean a prayer while at a friend's house, but the times when you know people are praying from all over the place. I've never felt it as strongly as I did in the days that followed. Obviously, I was sad, very sad, but I felt so much peace, too.

To be honest, I don't know how some people would take it if I told them. Before this happened, I used to think that I might let myself die before terminating a pregnancy, even if it meant my death. I was still thinking that when I was told by all the people that I have trusted in life that I needed to live for my family, rather than dying for a child who couldn't live.

Now, though I am healing physically, I feel like I lost something, some bit of innocence gone, replaced with an emptiness for what once was.


  1. Memory eternal. I'm so very sorry this happened. And there's nothing else you could have done.

  2. Praying for you. I know this is so very hard and so very sad. I am going to light a candle for you now. You are very loved.

  3. You've been in my prayers. I do not think anything that you felt or may have said was "dramatic". What you have gone through is traumatic. Give yourself grace and know that you have the right to feel whatever you may be feeling. Hugs! May your sweet child's memory be eternal.

  4. Thank you for sharing your pain with us. It is tremendously brave.

  5. I am SO sorry for your loss. May God's comfort surround you.

  6. I am so sorry you have had to suffer so many losses! An ectopic pregnancy, especially, is one of those impossibly difficult situations that we have in our fallen world where there just aren't any non-traumatic outcomes. Memory Eternal! You are very strong and very loved, and always in our prayers! <3

  7. Dear friend! I have thinking about you and praying for you. There are no easy answers that will take away this ache. I love, though, the time you were able to experience this little child. Know that you are loved. Thank you for opening your heart this way.

  8. In all things give Glory to God. I pray that the Mother of God will take away the pain in your heart and that she will embrace you with her Holy Protection.

  9. You are loved. I had two miscarriages, years ago. Such a hard thing to talk about with others. Sharing helps very much, yet it's the last thing we do. Thank you for your post.

  10. Thank you for sharing this. I know this is an old post. I just found your blog today. After 7 years of trying to conceive our first child my husband and I finally turned to a fertility specialist. My first ever pregnancy after all that then was cut short because it was tubal. I knew right away that the child couldn't survive but because of the treatment I held out hope that maybe another little one was lurking in there, that something else could happen. Nope. I ended up having that tube removed because the first dose of methotrexate didn't seem to do anything and I couldn't take the waiting or the idea of taking a poison any more. I never, ever thought I'd intentionally end a pregnancy either. Very few people know any of this IRL but God is merciful and good.


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