18 Weeks, 4 Miscarriages, 1 New Year

I am 37, happily married, happily employed, 18 weeks pregnant and nervous as hell. I am 18 weeks along, exactly, today, on January 1, 2010. I feel good, physically. No strange symptoms. Everything is normal and fine. So why am I so numb emotionally?

I was pregnant last year. Well, let's face it I have been pregnant, more or less, for the last 2 1/2 years. I had 4 miscarriages. The first time I found out I was pregnant, after my husband, Griffin, and I started trying, I was elated. I was 34 and would be 35 on my due date so that made me a geriatric pregnancy case. 35 is geriatric!?! Ok, fine, so it was. When I went in for my first ultrasound with my husband, they only found an empty sac. No baby, no placenta, nothing else. I was empty. I was supposed to be about 12 weeks along.

We had already told our families that I was pregnant. My in-laws were chomping at the bit to become grandparents and had reminded us of that fact in very clever ways on a regular basis. Now, we had to untell everyone. I would become very good at this untelling part. Perhaps, too good.

My ObGyn told me I would need to have a D&C to get everything out. It was horrible and then it was over. My second pregnancy, about 5 months later, was not much better. 10 weeks, a fetus, no heartbeat. I couldn't accept it. So we went back a week later for another ultrasound to make sure there was no heartbeat. There wasn't. I had another D&C.

About 6 months after that, another positive pregnancy test. The line was faint, but it was there. That one took care of itself in a few weeks. I was becoming cynical, cold.

Another 6 months, another positive pregnancy test. I found a new OB and made an appointment. At about 7 weeks, I started spotting. It was brown, red, pink, maroon. I was miserable. We went on a cruise vacation that we had planned months earlier and I tried to forget about it for a week. I spotted the whole time. When we returned, I had an ultrasound. I prepared for the worst. I hated having D&C's. I hate the idea of being under anesthesia, too.

The ultrasound tech muttered to another tech and then to a doctor. They didn't have the screen pointed in our direction. I strained to hear what they were saying. One said there was a definite 'FH'. A definite FH, fetal heartbeat? What? And then a doctor came in and told us we had a heartbeat. Success! We were elated. My husband gave me a high-five. We cheered. I had never been so relieved in my life. I was only 8 or 9 weeks along, but we were on top of the world.

I hate failing at anything. I have this 'can do' attitude and cannon accept defeat easily. Finally, I was successful at this too. I was 36. Not too old, ready to do this. The spotting continued, on and off. My doc assured me that if it was brown, it was ok. Not to worry. I worried. A lot. We had another appointment a few weeks later. Doc found the heartbeat with the doppler and I was relieved. I told him about the spotting again; he told me not to worry, again.

At 12 weeks we had the nuchal translucency test done. This tests for Down's syndrome and Trisomy 18 and 13. I was so nervous. The tech scanned and typed and clicked for what felt like an hour. She showed us the heartbeat and we took a little tour of the anatomy of our offspring. She then said everything was perfect! A doctor came in and explained our results. I had the same chance of having a baby with Down's or Trisomy as a 21-year-old. Whooo-hoo!

We held our annual Memorial Day/Wedding Anniversary party the next week and told everyone the great news. Everyone was so happy for us. We deserved this. I told everyone that I had the body of a 21-year-old. Everyone chuckled, even if Griffin had already told them the same joke a few hours earlier. I was at 13 weeks and felt like I won the lottery.

I had continued to spot on and off, but the nurses all told me to relax. Brown was just old blood. It was ok. I didn't have any cramping. I was fine. I begged for an ultrasound to be sure. They said no. Relax there, first time mom. Its 'ok'.

Pregnancy comes with many tests. Many, many tests. The next one was the AFP test. Alpha fetal protein. A blood test that looks for signs of neural tube defects like spina bifida. This was done at 16 weeks. I got a call from my OB while Griffin and I were food shopping. He told me the test came back with some irregularities. One part was a little high. It could be nothing, but he wanted me to schedule an ultrasound right away. Of course, this was a Friday late afternoon, so there would be no scheduling until Monday morning. They got us in for that week. Squeezed us in, because there could be a problem. I was worried.

Through all of these pregnancies, I have been glued to my computer. I have a wonderful Macbook Pro that Griffin bought for me. When I worry, I Google. Its amazing what you can find. So many people out in cyberspace, documenting their experiences, asking questions, giving answers to the best of their knowledge. So much to sift through. By the time our ultrasound appointment came, I was prepared to hear many things. I braced myself. I was at 17 weeks.

The tech started the ultrasound. She showed us the heartbeat and toured the anatomy. I was so relieved our baby was still alive. The tech told us everything looked ok with the baby and took measurements of various parts. Everything was ok, except.

The tech called in the doctor. The doc looked at the screen and made a face. He asked if we could see how the baby was curled in a ball? In the 'fetal position' you might say. We saw that. Well, apparently there was very little amniotic fluid around the baby, so it couldn't move. It just laid there curled up. The doc said he was very sorry and we would have to end the pregnancy. There was nothing that could be done. He would call my OB and inform him of the results.

My OB wanted to see us right away, so we zoomed at a a snail's pace over to his office. Griffin drove, I Googled. With my trusty iPhone, I found out that there were several reasons for low amniotic fluid and little that could be done. I also came across the acronym PROM for the first time. Premature rupture of membranes. That did not sound good.

At the OB's office, he checked me for leaking amniotic fluid and looked at my cervix. The test strip came back negative for fluid and my cervix was closed. That's good, right? Well. It seems it didn't matter. I had about 1 cubic centimeter of fluid and that was really bad. He asked me if I ever felt wet. Well, yes I had, felt drippy, I would say, but it wasn't blood, so I thought it was ok. He told us the best thing to do was to end the pregnancy.

What else could we do? We could wait a week and see what happens. I was on bed rest, lots of fluids and plenty of Googling. I Googled my sanity out. I read as much as I could about PROM and how to fix it. There were a few things that were experimental. Not much success at this early stage. I was now really aware of the fluid leaking out.

Every time I drank anything, it would get to the fetus, the fetus would make urine and that would become part of the amniotic fluid and then it would dribble out of me. If I stayed real still, I could hold it in for a while and then it would run out of me in a small gush when I moved or sighed. The problems associated with not having enough amniotic fluid are that the lungs won't develop and the bones can't grow properly. If the fluid didn't build up and I went to term, or at least to a viable time, I could have a baby who would suffocate with lungs that couldn't breathe. Another problem was the chance of infection. If I developed an infection in my uterus, through the tear in the sac, that could be deadly for me. This alarmed Griffin. I wasn't alarmed. I was determined to fix this.

After a week of drinking 2 gallons of a combination of water, Gatorade and juice each day, we went in for another ultrasound. The fluid was even lower. How was that possible? I tried so hard. Now what? You should end the pregnancy. I was 18 weeks. I wanted a 3rd opinion.

Over the phone my OB gave us the name of an abortion clinic and a doctor that performed late term abortions. I went back to Googling. I found a group of doctors that specialized in high risk pregnancy and dealt with PROM. We made an appointment. I spent another week on the couch. I found that if I sat up a little it kept the fluid in longer. My baby was still trying to live. It was still drinking and urinating when I drank. So I wouldn't give up. These doctors would fix me. Fix us.

Finally, my appointment came. Another ultrasound. There's the heartbeat, all the organs, bones, brain. But no fluid. My baby, inside me, curled in a ball, barely able to move. There is nothing that can be done. You have to end the pregnancy. This could put your life in serious jeopardy. I cried.

I had been crying on and off since I first found out there was a problem, but this was a whole new level of crying. I was bawling. Loud braying noises came from me. Snot ran freely down my face. I am not a public person. I never do this sort of thing. I lost my mind. Griffin did the only thing he could. He held me.

There was nothing left to do. We went home. Griffin called the abortion clinic and scheduled a D&E&C for me, for us. I laid on the couch. My mission was over. I had no reason to keep drinking water. What little I drank, dribbled out an hour later. I apologized to my baby for not being able to save it. Not being able to fix things, I felt so guilty.

I thought about what I was in for. I knew there were crazies that picketed abortion clinics. I knew it would be filled with people that didn't want their pregnancies and I wanted mine. I knew it would be cold and heartless. I knew I could not end my pregnancy at an abortion clinic. I started bawling again. I ran to Griffin and told him I couldn't have this done at a clinic. He held me. He called my OB's office. They gave us the name of the only doctor in the tri-state area that performed late term abortions. Just recently one of the other doctors that still performed this late term procedure had been murdered by anti-abortionists.

I was just past 19 weeks. We went to our appointment. We sat in the waiting room for over an hour. It was filled with happy pregnant women waiting to see their OBGYN; he was a fertility specialist as well. We finally saw the doctor. He did an ultrasound. No fluid. He talked to us in his office. He was as cold as ice. I cried. Bawled. Snotted. Griffin held me. The doctor said there was no other option. We scheduled the abortion. I cried some more.

At 19 weeks and 6 days. I went in to the doc's office to have the laminaria inserted. The pain was blinding. The next day they gave me pills to take to start the contractions and further open my cervix. I had to let the pills dissolve between my cheek and gums. It was disgusting. I couldn't drink or eat. I had been drinking so much water before that I felt like I was drying up without it.

On July 21st. Griffin took me to the hospital and they prepped me for surgery. As I lay waiting in pre-op room, I was having contractions. I was in labor with a baby I would never see. They never told us the sex, so it remained an 'it' in my mind. I explained to the nurses why I was having an abortion at 20 weeks. I cried. They looked at us with pity and said it was the right thing to do. If I didn't do this I could die and my baby would surely die anyhow.

Finally, they rolled me into the operating room, I continued crying. Griffin held my hand. How helpless he must have felt through all of this. He told me when we first started dating 7 years ago that he wanted a family and wouldn't date someone that didn't feel the same. He was such a wonderful man he made me want to have a family with him, to have children of my own, to be a mother. Now it was all being taken away from me, again.

When I woke up in recovery, I focused on breathing. It was difficult, I thought, 'breathe, breathe, breathe'. When I was able to catch my breath, I asked the nurse to bring Griffin in. It seemed like forever, but then he was there at my side. My rock. I was so relieved to see him. I just wanted to go home. They gave me instructions and eventually sent us home. Just the two of us.

I recovered quickly. Felt better physically. It was the end of July of 2009 and we were supposed to go on vacation to Australia leaving on August 4th. Griffin had cashed in our frequent flier miles for 2 first class tickets. He told me to plan the vacation. I had 3 weeks of vacation to organize. And so I did. I Googled. I was distracted with my new mission. I healed.

We went on our trip and it was amazing. I fell in love with kangaroos and we discussed getting one as a pet. We had talked about perhaps not trying to have a family anymore. the heartbreak was getting to us. We could be happy if it was just the two of us. We have a wonderful life together. We could live like this forever. Traveling the world. But I couldn't accept defeat. I wanted to try one more time. Who knows how long it would take to get pregnant again? It was usually 6 months after each miscarriage. I could wait, I could do it! I was crazed.

We came home happy and refreshed. I accepted our loss and work began. I am a high school art teacher. I love my job. It was the start to a great new school year. While we were in Australia I had my first period. It was pretty normal. Lasted 5 days. Not too bad. I was starting to feel normal again. It was wonderful.

In the middle of September, I was expecting my period and it didn't come. I waited a few days and took a digital pregnancy test. It said 'NO'. I felt it was really mean of it to say that. I waited 2 more days and took another pregnancy test, the kind with the lines that develop. Two lines you're pregnant, one line you're not. There were two lines! Sort of. I squinted at it. I could see two lines if I held it at the right angle. I showed it to Griffin. He squinted. He didn't think so. I was out of pregnancy tests. The next day I bought more. The line wasn't much darker. The following day, another test, the line a little darker. Griffin started to believe. It was only a little more than 2 months after our tragic ending.

I called the high risk pregnancy group, I was not fooling around with this one. They told me to see my OB first. I called my OB and made an appointment. They got a positive pregnancy test from me too. I made the appointment at the high risk group. At our ultrasound appointment there, they told us that the fetus was a week younger than we calculated, but we had a heartbeat and everything looked fine so far. That put me at 7 weeks pregnant. Could I do this again?

We met with one of the doctors, all of us cautiously optimistic. She explained that it was not surprising that I was measuring a week behind, my cycles hadn't regulated themselves yet. We scheduled the next appointment for 2 weeks later. During those two weeks, I didn't spot, I didn't drip. I was a little ill, a little dizzy. They sent me for blood tests. 21 vials of blood tests. I came back positive for a clotting disorder, the doc wasn't too concerned. He said this wasn't the reason we lost the other pregnancies, but put me on B6, B12 and folate anyhow.

The next ultrasound at the high risk group showed the fetus growing. Heart beating. Things progressing. We met with the top doc. I was impressed. He was cautiously optimistic. We discussed how to handle things and keep a close watch. When I get to 15 weeks they would start measuring my cervix to make sure it stays closed. There would be more tests. Lots more ultrasounds and plenty of kid-glove treatment. I was pleased.

The nuchal translucency test came and went. All was fine. We saw a doctor almost every week. The ultrasound at 15 weeks and 4 days was fine. We found out its a GIRL! We decided on a name - Piper Blue. The ultrasound at 17 weeks was fine. Piper was fine. My cervix was fine. No bleeding, no spotting, no leaking.

I have started to feel her move. I look pregnant. The last time I didn't look pregnant, just my face and ankles were swollen. We told our extended family the good news on Christmas eve. Other people have started to look at my round belly, but they don't dare say anything. This is starting to feel real. It might actually happen for us.

I am at 18 weeks exactly today, January 1, 2010. The start of a new year, new decade, new chapter in our lives. We are cautiously optimistic, but still numb, emotionally. I ask Griffin if he is excited yet, he says he has 'twinges'. I know what he means. Piper rolls around in my belly or maybe that was just my breakfast. 22 weeks to go.