Moving On.

 I woke up early the morning of our procedure. 

Showered the night before with their shower kit. 

Showered that morning. 

Trevor gave me blessing. I was told I would recover. No complications would happen, and that I would feel peace that the D&C was the right choice for us. 

Drive was normal, even if we got behind 4 different semi trucks. One hauling sheep. We passed a sign in Ketchum that said “Abortion IS healthcare”. I wanted to set it on fire. I don’t want to have to have one. My baby wasn’t alive. My abortion was about health and recovery. Not about birth control. I can’t believe that people voluntarily choose it. Makes me sick. 

Checked in at the hospital. 

Taken back to my room. Stripped into a surgical gown. I was freezing. Warm blankets. Compression sleeves around my calves to keep blood moving. He asked me questions. Lots and lots of questions. 

My emotions were close to the surface. Constantly thinking about how just in 20-30-40 minutes my baby which never really was, was going to be gone. 

The nurse was kind. He tried to be chipper. Which maybe wasn’t a bad thing? But at the same time it just made me feel like he didn’t understand. Didn’t understand that that day was one of the hardest days of my life. 

After the questions. He started the IV. The cold spray was horrible. Felt exactly like concentrated painful ice on my arm held there for too long in negative degree weather conditions. Very unpleasant. IV done. 

Doctor came in and talked to me. Nurse for anesthesia came in and talked to me. He was odd. Intense. 

It was time for them to roll me back. I was given a relaxant. I mouthed I love you to Trevor as they wheeled me out. I could see fear and helplessness in his eyes. He wanted to hold me. To not let me out of sight. Fuck I love that man. 

I could feel the relaxant as they wheeled me out. My vision a little blurry. 

I shifted to the operating table and the last thing I remember is them telling me, “We’ll take good care of you”. I responded “I know you will”, and I was out. 

I woke up and came out of the anesthesia feeling empty. Tears on my cheeks. Apparently I said hi and waved to Trevor. No recollection of that. 

There was a different nurse helping post-op. I remember she said, “I’m not sure how you felt about this pregnancy but given my own losses I’m very sorry”

I remember saying that we were sorry too. 

Using the bathroom and feeling very unsteady on my feet. 

Getting dressed and being wheeled to the front. Trevor getting the car.

Trevor driving me home. Falling asleep. 

Getting food at Smiley Creek. 

Getting home and falling asleep again. Waking up and falling asleep again. 

Not bleeding lot. 

Suffering emotionally. 

I don’t know why God would see fit for us to suffer this way. I’m not sure what’s to be learned from this. But truthfully just trying to put one foot in front of the other each day. I’m not sure what I need to do to heal. But I know I feel peace outside in the mountains. I feel peace when Trev is holding me. Just trying to lean into the things that are filling the emptiness inside of me. 

Recurrent Loss

 August 1st, 2024. 

I was one day shy of 10 weeks pregnant. We were almost out of the first trimester. I was excited. To see baby on the screen. To hear babies heartbeat. Drove the 1.5 hours to the hospital to meet with my care provider. To know that everything was okay. I peed in the cup. I stripped down. My body vulnerable. A thorough questionnaire and I was laid on the table. And she started looking for baby. 

I waited. 

And waited. 

And the silence told me everything I needed to know. 

The nurse wasn’t good at hiding. “Hm.” sounds were frequent. 

I squeezed T’s hand just waiting for the bad news. The screen showed measurement of 6weeks. Not right. Not right. Can’t be. 

She tried an abdominal. Nothing. 

Different transvaginal. And she froze on a screen. 

There is no baby. Blighted ovum (otherwise known as anembryonic pregnancy). The egg is fertilized but no baby grows. 

“I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.” 

They leave the room so I can get dressed and it hits me. I start to fall apart. 

Have to keep it together. I’ve got to get bloodwork done.

Hug T. Feel myself crumpling into him. See the absolute devastation and complete helplessness in his eyes. 

Walk numbly down to blood draw after I make a follow-up appointment to schedule a D&C. 

I get blood drawn. Say almost nothing to the phlebotomist. “You pregnant?” Me: “That’s a great question. Yes, testing hcG”

Leave the hospital. Trevor just keeps telling me it’ll be okay. I know it will. I know it will. 

I drive us down to Hailey. We need groceries. I lose it. Sobs are shaking my body. This isn’t fair. Why did I get my hopes up? This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. He asks if I need to pull over. No. I need to control something in my life right now. Driving this car is all I have in my control right now. I feel my soul shatter in two at the loss of something that never even really was. The loss of hope. The loss of dreams. The loss of a future that we were really starting to plan. 

We get groceries. And I go numb. Tears sneaking their way into the drive home. Trevor keeps looking over at me. I tell him I’m okay. I am. I am just shattered. Again. 

We get home. I have to get out of there. We off-road to the trailhead of Phyllis Lake. Never been there. It was a good distraction. Fun to push our 4Runner into some slightly technical trails. The lake was beautiful. Don’t think there was a single fish in that lake. 

We fish on the way home. I catch fish left and right. Healing almost to feel successful at something since growing a baby isn’t it. 

Now, two days before my procedure I just feel like I sit in a world of hurt. I’ve got a blood draw tomorrow, and appointment with a different doctor, an OBGYN. My mom gets to town tonight. I’ve been spotting a little. 

Life goes on. Everyone around us lives their life while we quietly deal this loss. 

My body was doing everything it could to sustain a pregnancy. Baby just didn’t grow. And there’s not a fucking thing that I can do about that.