Recurrent Pregnancy Loss Is: Me

Recurrent pregnancy loss is:

Knowing you can get pregnant. Then knowing that getting pregnant will not get you any closer to having a baby in your arms.

Setting a limit on how many times you will try. And then try one more time after that. (Then one more time after that.)

Telling yourself that you can’t make it through one more loss. And then you do.

Buying pregnancy tests in bulk online. Not to check to see if you are pregnant (though there’s that too). But to watch to see if the positive will get darker or lighter.

Carrying physical copies of your paperwork from your general practitioner to your OB to your reproductive endocrinologist to your maternal-fetal medicine specialist so you don’t have to give two dozen more vials of blood for the same test you did last month.

Related: Next Time It Will Be Better; Recurrent Pregnancy Loss

Agreeing to elective exploratory surgeries, radical diet changes, or more testing than you can ever imagine just in hopes of finding a reason. Then finding out there is no reason. And with no reason comes no solution.

Knowing exactly what you would do for a baby shower, maternity photo shoot and baby announcement — but never converting it from Pinterest to reality.

The inability to get your hopes up. Even when you’re past the point of your furthest loss.

The anxiety of pregnancy after loss — on crack. 

Finding out that you will miscarry from a two-minute call from the nurse, instead of from your own body.

Delivering your babies at home or in the ER because you rarely make it to 20 weeks.

Recurrent pregnancy loss is:

Having two, four or six pregnancies all in one calendar year.

Losing track of due dates and loss dates, because you have so many and they often overlap.

Wondering if you should continue to name your babies because you are running out of all the names you hoped you’d give your living kids.

Not feeling at home with those suffering from infertility, because you can get pregnant — but also feeling out of place in bereavement groups because you often can’t get far enough along to have a body to bury.

Saying you’re sorry, not congratulations, when you announce to your husband that you are expecting yet again.

Hiding pregnancy symptoms from friends and family because you know once you announce they will hold their breath, look at you with that sorry-sad face, and think, “Here we go again.”

Feeling like your body is the most epic of failures.

Related: Body Betrayal

Waiting years, not just months, to bring home your rainbow. (If you ever do.)

Watching your support system dwindle because they already brought that meal, sent that card and delivered those flowers for your previous loss.

Getting down a routine: Trying to conceive, positive pregnancy test, hCG quant test, progesterone supplementation, baby aspirin, lots of appointments, lots of ultrasounds, blood, loss … repeat.

Recurrent pregnancy loss is:

Listening to every well-meaning person who knows your story say you should “just adopt.”

Not receiving bereavement support from your medical providers because you’re too early, and these things happen all the time. (And they do. Specifically to you.)

Having two losses, and then knowing you still have to go through one more before your medical team will consider testing.

Constantly asking yourself how much more you can possibly handle. Then being pretty sure you reached that point three losses ago.

Watching a friend go on to deliver two or three babies in the time it takes you to get just one of your pregnancies to term.

Wondering “Why me?”

Listening to the cries of your living children as they ask you for a sibling, and feeling deep in the pit of your stomach that you will never be able to fulfill this longing in their heart.

Seeing the nurse try not to react when she reads the intake form you despised filling out just moments before. 7 pregnancies.1 live birth.

Being terrified to have sex with your partner because you know you’re fertile, but also know a much-wanted pregnancy would likely end in loss.

Taking birth control pills when you desperately long to be pregnant, just to prevent the inevitable loss that would ensue if you conceive.

Ending your fertility journey because you’ve run out of money, you’ve run out of time, or you’ve run out of options. Never because you’ve run out of love.

Being on the wrong side of statistics every time.

Checking the toilet paper each time you use the restroom. Even when you’re not pregnant because at this point, it’s habit.

Feeling like you are letting down your husband, parents, friends, and loved ones with every miscarriage.

The never-ending cycle of grief.

Recurrent pregnancy loss is:

Jealousy.

Confusion.

Heartbreak.

Loneliness.

Tragic.

Misunderstood.

Underrepresented.

Hell.

 

Recurrent pregnancy loss is:

Being brave because it’s harder to stop than it is to try again.

Having the strongest sort of will, determined to see a dream come true.

Loving every baby, no matter how many, no matter how long they are inside.

Having full arms in spite of an empty belly because you’ve chosen alternate means to building a family. 

Fleeting glimpses of hope that maybe, just maybe, one of these pregnancies will work.

Recurrent pregnancy loss is:

A journey none of us ever wish to take. We know this experience is draining not only for our immediate family but for our whole support system. But even if no one fully understands what we are going through, we still need you by our side. We need you to hold our hand, bring that meal, and let us know that this baby — no matter how many come before or after — is loved, wanted, and worth celebrating no matter how brief their life.

Today, I share this post not because I want you to feel sorry for me.

I share because I need to know I’m not alone.

I share because recurrent pregnancy loss is:

Me.

Photo by Remy_Loz on Unsplash