life happens fast and hard. and sometimes painfully.

This was supposed to be a happy post.

This was supposed to be the day we announced to everyone that we were pregnant!

Twelve weeks!
Number two on the way, due early January!

Oh boy, how much we have waited to type up this post!

Unfortunately, as we found out last Friday, somewhere between weeks 9 and 11, we lost the baby.

And boy has it been hard.

But this isn't a sympathy post.

Far from it.

We have had lots of hugs, tears, flowers, conversations, and loving thoughts from dear family and friends.
Even lots of complete strangers.

Naturally, what I first I did was what any girl in my situation would do.

Cry.

And then I took to the good old internet.

You know, the place where we become our own doctors?

I went through rehashings of so many people in my situation, which helped, I guess.

How long did it last? How much pain were you in?

But they were all so bitter and cold.

If I wrote this post any earlier than today, my story would have been bitter and cold, too.

But somewhere amongst the tears, the chocolate, and the love from those around us, its not bitter and cold anymore.

It has become a trial that we have been able to get past together.

A trial that gives us a fresh start and outlook on life.

One that has had us count our blessings and draw so much closer to a loving Father in Heaven.

 {and has turned this into one long post! Read what you would like. We are not quick to be offended if you don't care :) }

 

So no pity here.

We decided to share this for a few reasons.

1. For us. Cathartic, you know?

2. For you, our family and friends. A very small handful of you knew we were pregnant but we wanted all of you to know why we may have been absent and possibly even standoffish the past few week.

3. For that sad mommy, who just really wants to be told that everything was going to be okay.

Because it is.

Lets start from the beginning and get the basics out of the way.

-We tried and tried and tried to get pregnant again. We want our kids close together, so come December, negative pregnancy test. 

January: negative.

February: negative.

March: negative.

April: negative.

But that final week leading up to May brought a positive, even with an earlier April negative.

We were thrilled, but something just didn't seem to make us giddy. Maybe because we were in the middle of making moving preparations? We were stressed to the max and decided to keep it under wraps until we got settled out here.

 -Morning sickness hit, right in the middle of packing up boxes {by  myself}. Totally awesome. Thankfully my parents came out and helped us get everything finished. 

{You know what else is totally awesome? Moving 1,000 via car while morning sick. Try it sometime. Rad.}

-Fatigue was killing me, but the morning sickness lasted only about 2 weeks.

-We went in for our 8 week appointment. For some reason, I felt the need to squeeze it in while Tyrel was in town and before we switched insurances the next week. We were lucky and got an ultrasound that day. The doctor said it looked like I was about 6 1/2 weeks along and pushed my due date from Jan 11 to Jan 23. That was our first clue something was wrong. Maybe I ovulated late? I had gotten a negative earlier in April before the positive! The yolk sac was also partially detached, so no heavy lifting or exercising. The good news was that there was a heartbeat, and that my chances of miscarriage lowered to under 5% since we picked one up. As much as I talked myself into feeling great about it all, that was when something lightly whispered to me that this wasn't going to work and that we were going to lose the baby.

-Reset back at "6 1/2 weeks", we just kept going through the motions. One day of barely-there spotting and cramping brought back that little voice of peaceful caution. Week 7 and 8 were fine, but then Week 9 came. Right before bed, I noticed bright red spotting. Still not enough to cause normal concern, but with this lingering feeling from weeks ago, I called the next morning to scheduled an appointment. Maybe it was stress? Earlier that week, I had attended a funeral for one of the most vibrant, beautiful girls anyone could ever had the joy to know. We were also hitting a wall with the financing on our house, due to last minute details that we thought were taken care of. I asked my little brother if he could watch the Kembot when I went in, and that is when I lost it. 

Tears everywhere. From me, from him. From poor Tyrel who was 5 hours away.

My little brother gave me a blessing {which, in my Church, a righteous man can give blessings of comfort, healing, and direction through the power of the priesthood, much like Christ once blessed the blind, sick, and dishearten. More about that here.}. As tacky as it may sound to some, it was one of the most spiritual moments of my life. I know without a shadow of a doubt that even though it was my little brother's voice, the words were from my Heavenly Father. Words He had been saving for me, just for that very moment. It even made my tough little brother cry ;) In short, He told me exactly what He had been the whole time. "It may not be the outcome you desire, but I have a plan for you and am here to comfort you through this." 

-My mom came with me to the appointment. As the nurse proceeded with the ultrasound again, I noticed the baby, just for a moment, just in passing. I could tell from the 2 second glimpse that the heartbeat was gone. The nurse smiled, got up and brought the doctor in, who broke the news. I put my best smile on, one single tear running down my cheek and thanked her. My mom and I took a moment to ourselves, and while it was sad, we both had known. We met back with the doctor who offered condolences and assured me that it was purely chromosomal. I did nothing wrong to cause this miscarriage. I held together so well with just a tear or two here and there. She kept telling me to grieve and not be Superwoman. This was still my baby. The baby I had been waiting for almost 6 months to get pregnant with. Then, out of nowhere, she started to break down for me. Then I cried :)

The mom, the daughter, and the doctor, all crying together. We decided to let my body try and pass everything over the weekend since it had already started, but since I was approaching my original 12 weeks with lots to pass, we scheduled a D&C.

-Tyrel came home early that weekend and sat through all of those nasty cramps with me, which were mainly centered in my back. Those first few days were not good. Every sad song made me cry. Every glimpse at a baby made me cry. I was crying all day long. Believe me, I wasn't Superwoman in those moments. We found the refresher we needed at my beautiful friend Sarah's wedding. We are suckers for wedding with pretty brides, so we liked this one especially! The day was lovely and gave us a boost. We were still having a tough time, and the pain kept getting worse as the night went on, so we had to leave early. Here is our cute little family on that evening:

 Everyone thought it was so adorable, but we just look dead. Especially in our eyes. We don't see that glow we had a few days before, even though there were technically 4 people in this shot.

-Yesterday I went thorough my procedure. It took about 30 minutes, and I was under complete anesthesia for about 2 hours. I woke up, got my clothing back on, and already felt 75% better. I was fatigued due to the anesthesia and blood loss, but I didn't feel that burden on my body anymore. As much as I had always wanted a natural miscarriage, this was the 100% correct decision this time around. With Tyrel leaving again for training and the rest of our move yet to be made in the next few weeks, it could have happened any time. What if there was no one there to take care of Kemry? What if it happened halfway to St. Paul? The doctor told Tyrel that there was so much tissue left to be passed that it would have taken a few very painful weeks for it to finish.

While I am certainly not out of the blue for pain yet, at least it isn't as painful as before, and now I have Vicodin, mama's best friend :) I have meds to take force my uterus to contract for the next few days, which is the only pain I feel. No internal pain. 99% less blood than before. And now I feel that closure. It is all done. We can more forward with everything still stored in a sacred little spot in my heart.

I don't want to make it seem like I was cold hearted or as if this wasn't a hard thing.

It surely was. I was almost 3 months pregnant. 1/3 of my way to having a sweet little baby in my arms.

Even though miscarriages are so common, you never think it will happen to you, and you never know how devastating it is until you have gone through one yourself. My heart goes out to all those women I know who have miscarried, some have had one, some have had 4 or 5. I thought I expressed proper sympathy for you, but I know now that I didn't. And for that I am sorry. I knew it would be hard, but I didn't know it was rip-your-heart-out-and-burn-it hard. No, that doesn't even adequately start to describe it.

Both of my sisters-in-law on Tyrel's side are pregnant right now, and we were so excited to all have a round together.
Now I get to be the cheerleader. And honestly, I will probably not be a very good one. I am human like everyone else. It is still going to be tough, but I will be there for them with my biggest smiles and warmest hugs as they continue without me.

Ultimately, I feel so blessed to have this feeling of comfort. I will still cry, I'm sure. I cried today already :) I will need hugs, chocolate, kisses, and babying, but Tyrel and I are used to waiting for everything.

We had to wait and wait to: 

-get married so I could have big-time surgery.

-bring Kemry home from the NICU for a sickness that disappeared on its own right away.

-be a stay-at-home mom, since our insurance was provided through my job.

-get into grad school. 1% acceptance rate? Give me a break.

-get Tyrel's job officially.

-even get pregnant again with number two.

I would say these are all good, honest things to desire. But we had to wait.

And so we will wait again.

And hopefully we will be able to see some little positives on the pee-sticks in a few months, once we are allowed to start trying again.

Until then, I can't wait until I can finally go for a jog {I haven't been able to at all this past pregnancy due to the yolk sac detachment}, I will eat all the deli-meat sandwiches I can, and I will ultimately enjoy the card I have been dealt because you never find happiness if you constantly live the sorrow of life.

I am thankful for an amazing husband, a darling daughter {who, after the surgery, ran up to me and had a million stories to tell me in Kemjibber. Melts my heart!!}, my amazing parents and brother {for all of the tissues, s'mores, and Kem-babysitting}, for the rest of our family and friends for their love, and, most important of all, a loving Father in Heaven, who has a plan for me {which always seems contrary to my own, but the two really run parallel with some detours back and forth}.