Ectopic, Partial Miscarriage, or “Other”?

So, I peed on a stick this morning, 6 days after I started bleeding from what I assumed would be like my previous 3 MC’s, and I got THIS result (in like 4 seconds):


Seriously.  Both lines appeared at the same time (one fainter than the other for all of 90 seconds).  I don’t even know exactly why I took this test today, just to torment myself, probably, but I’ve been feeling off since the MC, and had some nagging suspicions.  This MC was not as violent as the ones I’ve had in the past: no terrible, gut twisting cramps; no heavy bloody gushing for days on end that makes you feel like your insides are falling out; not even much tissue loss.  So, of course I wondered (read: hoped against hope).

This test was the very last one I found under my sink, and it expired in 2015, so that may have had a pinch to do with the results, but I didn’t think so. Fast forward 7 hours and I’m at my new OBGYN’s office for an appointment to get some answers.

First, she did a vaginal and cervical exam to look for any other source of bleeding.  (After the heavy-ish flow Saturday afternoon and some of Sunday, I’ve been intermittently leaking brownish blood since Monday.)  She didn’t see anything abnormal and said my cervix was closed, good.  I was a nervous wreck during this experience, praying that my baby was going to miraculously show up on the ultrasound, alive and well, even though I knew those were crazy thoughts.

My OB then inserted the ultrasound wand (ugh) and began to look.  An image flashed over the screen above my head and I squeezed my eyes shut, then snapped them open.  There was nothing to see.  No baby.  No mass.  No blighted ovum.  No sac.  My ovaries looked normal.  Nothing to see here, people!

The Verdict: We Don’t Know.

I POAS at the start of my visit, in the lobby waiting room, and the nurse came in with my result: Positive.  My OB ordered a blood test, to test my HGC levels, and scheduled me for a follow-up blood test in two days.  She’ll call me tomorrow with my first result.

So this is one of three things:

  1. An Ectopic Pregnancy,
  2. A miscarriage that is either incomplete, or in which my hormone levels are taking longer than usual to decrease, or
  3. A pregnancy that is just too new/small to see yet on ultrasound, which I can’t believe, no matter how much I want to, because I should be 6w2d today and the baby would be there, or the sac at least, right?

Out of options 1 or 2, I choose 3, thank you very much Universe.

Has anyone else been in this boat?  What was the situation for you?

I Dread Good Friday

I have had four miscarriages.  The first two occurred on “Good” Friday, two consecutive years in a row.

My hubs and I had been trying to get pregnant for years, when in March of 2012, after some mildly invasive fertility testing (here) and a diagnosis of “unexplained infertility” (relax, keep trying, you’ll get there!), I fell pregnant!  We were over the moon, and started planning prepping right away.  We told our friends.  We told family.  We were blissfully niave to the evil smackdown of miscarriage.  I was seven weeks pregnant and we were talking baby names.

Four days later, my husband, 11 yo son and I were at my employer’s work party, on Good Friday.  The smell of crawfish was nauseating me, and I felt like I might barf.  My hubby gushed on and on about how amazing the crawfish was, and he convinced me to taste it; my stomach lurched in rebellion.  I smiled through it and we left an hour later; my husband to a gig, and my tween and I went home.  By the time we arrived, I was feeling crampy-twinges, but blaming it on the food.  An hour later everything changed.  I wiped and saw red.  Red.  Red.  No.  Noooooo.

I sat on my front porch, terrified.  My son was inside watching a movie.  I called the local birth center I planned on birthing at.  By the time the midwife called me back, I was soaking the toilet paper I had shoved in my panties as rebellion against wearing a pad.  I WAS PREGNANT, DAMNIT!  I was pregnant, and I was not going to wear a damn pad.  The midwife asked me questions and told me what I didn’t want to hear.  I was breaking apart inside, but I couldn’t let on.  My son came outside, hungry, and I suggested we go to dinner at his favorite pizza joint nearby.  I told myself that if I ate their beet salad, with the quinoa and the walnuts and the baby greens, then the health of that meal would sustain my baby, and make him/her hold on and stay with us.  I just knew it would work.  It had to.

But I kept bleeding at the restaurant, and the cramps got worse.  I choked down my salad and water.  I smiled at my son and listened to his stories from school.  I didn’t call my husband; I wanted him to enjoy his evening and not worry, he couldn’t change it anyway.  My beet and quinoa and walnut salad couldn’t change it, so what could he do?

We went home and I don’t remember the rest of the night.  I probably let my kid watch TV till bedtime.  I remember getting in the shower and feeling the clumps of tissue falling from my body, and weeping hysterically.  Weeping and letting the shower mask my sobs, and wash my tears, while watching my baby get washed down the drain.

My husband came home and held me.  He regretted me not calling him.  He was crushed about our baby.  He took care of me.  We grieved.

I went to work on Monday and couldn’t stop crying.  They sent me home.  My boss kindly sent an email out to say we’d lost the baby, so I didn’t have to tell everyone personally.  People treated me kindly when I returned, women shared their MC stories.  I felt less alone because of them.  And a glimmer of hope crept in, because they all had healthy children.

I moved forward, eventually.

The following year, I was pregnant again in March.  I worked at the same place.  I was over the moon thrilled.  I didn’t even think about Good Friday or any bad omens.  I kept my news close to my heart.  I hoped, I hoped, I hoped.

At 7:15 am on Good Friday 2013, as I brought a patient back to the pre-op area, I felt a cramp low in my belly.  Fear surged through my body, my hands instantly got cold.  I could hardly remember what I was supposed to be telling the patient, even though I had been saying the very same thing for years.  I felt something warm and wet drip into my underwear.  I handed the patient a pen to sign the paperwork, and left abruptly, walking in a daze to the nearest bathroom.  Red in my panties.  Red when I wiped.  A painful cramp gripped me.  Tears began to fall uncontrollably from my eyes.  I shoved a wad of toilet paper in my panties, washed my hands and walked out of the bathroom.  My beautiful friend Maria caught me as I exited, looked at my face, and took me to a corner of the pre-op area.  I stuttered out what was happening, and she shook me and looked me in the eyes and told me to go.  “Go now,” she said, “go home.  I’ll take care of your patients.  I’ll make excuses for you.  Go tell Heather what’s going on and leave, now.”  She turned me around and pushed me toward the manager’s office.

Thank God for Maria.  She took such good care of me in that moment.  I will love her forever for it.  I was 6 weeks, 2 days pregnant, and I lost my second baby that day on not very Good Friday.

As I write this, Good Friday is in 4 days.  I was pregnant last week.  I had a miscarriage 3 days ago. I’m grateful that I didn’t have to wait until Friday to lose my baby, but I dread the day nevertheless, remembering all the precious ones I’ve lost.

The First Three Months of Pregnancy Blow, and Where is My Spidey Smell?

Yes, they blow.  This is not to say that I am not thrilled to be pregnant, because I am (deep down inside where there is energy for “thrilled”), truly.  But, to be real – I feel like sh*t, I have no energy whatsoever, I’m queazy all day, and all I want to do is lay in bed and be still so my stomach doesn’t hate me.  But my little 7 month-old daughter won’t let me, she wants to eat, play, be read to, go outside, and all that crap.  And she has recently decided that naps aren’t really her thing, so she fights me to take them – even though she’s super fussy and rubbing her little eyes raw.  Thirty-45 minutes after I get her to sleep, her beautiful eyes snap open and she looks at me like, “mom! what did I miss?”.  Ugh, I had just fallen asleep myself . . .


Shhh!  Almost asleep. 

This pregnancy is – knock on wood – not as bad as my pregnancy with W.  With her I was so ill, I hardly ate for 12 weeks.  I made my husband wait at least an hour before getting near me after showering because the soapy clean smell of him was so strong it made me gag.  I refused to eat meat, and the smell of it cooking sent me outside.  (I became a vegetarian when I was pregnant with K, when the smell of cooking beef suddenly became equated with burning flesh – pregnancy hormones, hello!  Since then, I had worked my way back to eating chicken/fish – until W.)  My husband started cooking only vegetarian, and still, the aroma of cooking had me upstairs in bed with the blankets over my head: grilled onions – ick, rosemary – bleh, oregano – barf, garlic – i just threw up a little in my mouth. Often, I just ate a slice of toast or a pb&j and went to bed.  Our 12 yo son started looking at me like he didn’t want to get too close, whatever it was might be catching.  I felt like a wild animal.  Smells drove me crazy, I swear I could pick out a smell from across the room that no one else even noticed.  And I was exhausted; I would come home from work and fall asleep the minute I hit the couch.  Thank goodness for my husband.  Without him, my oldest would have had 3 months of grilled cheese for dinner and unlimited media time, cause I’d be sleeping.

This time around, I’m not half as sick (yet), and I can’t seem to smell any better than a regular human, thankfully.  It makes me nervous, like something is wrong, or maybe I’m just having a boy.  I try to stay positive.  I’m still so worried about a miscarriage, but I’m taking my 100 mg Progesterone nightly, so fingers double crossed that this baby stays with us and grows strong and healthy.

Im looking forward to 12 weeks, when this dreadful tiredness and nausea will magically disappear! 

Fingers crossed for a healthy pregnancy for me and all you newly pregnant mommas out there!