Friday, September 28, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Not For the Faint of Heart
Warning: This blog is about miscarriage and may contain graphic sentences you don't want to envision. If that bothers you, please stop reading now.
On Wednesday morning, I woke up and took Cole to school. Since I'd been feeling a little off, I stopped at CVS and ran home to take a pregnancy test before meeting for a play date at the park. I popped those two pee sticks in the car to 'think' and five minutes down the road, this is what I found:
I went into the park, saw the pirate mommas, and eventually spilled my news like I was talking about some stranger... After two miscarriages, you tend to get a little distant from your pregnancies during the early stages in case it doesn't end up resulting in a baby. On Thursday night I had coffee with fellow pirate Emily and came home feeling excited. I started thinking maybe this one will stick, maybe this one is meant to be, maybe Cole and Stella are meant to have a little brother or sister. I already had a name chosen (Everley Mae or Asher Miles from our previous name choices)...
At 3 am Friday morning, I woke up to pee and had some slight bleeding. At 8 am, I woke up covered in blood and immediately freaked out. Shaking and crying hysterically in the bathroom, the miscarriage started as soon as I sat down on the toilet. I cried even harder and tried to wipe the blood off of myself, until finally giving in and moving blindly toward the shower running, where I knew my husband would be. I climbed in the shower and shook, holding him and howling hysterically because we had just lost another baby.
Since then, I have been resting and trying to keep my thoughts in check. Kevin is taking care of the kids and making sure I get enough to eat and drink.
My first miscarriage happened when Cole was 7 months old. It was a blighted ovum, where my body thinks I'm pregnant and a gestational sac grows, but no baby grows inside it. That really made us want to try for another baby, which resulted in Stella being born in December 2010.
My second miscarriage occurred in April 2012, without my knowledge. After missing my period and getting a positive test, I started the next morning and got a negative test. The ultrasound established the pregnancy had been on my left side and had occurred so early on that I wouldn't have even known if I wasn't so aware of my body.
This time, I knew I was pregnant and was hopeful, but it didn't take. Blood tests showed my progesterone levels were low, making the uterus lining unable to carry the pregnancy. Most likely, this was the case in the April miscarriage, too.
So here I sit, on my third miscarriage with two beautiful babies I am able to hold in my arms to get me through this. I am so grateful for their love and the support of my husband and amazing women who have been there, or haven't been there and just want to show their love and support.
Miscarriage is something no one ever talks about; why shouldn't we? Isn't it better to know we're not alone than to suffer through it in silence?
On Wednesday morning, I woke up and took Cole to school. Since I'd been feeling a little off, I stopped at CVS and ran home to take a pregnancy test before meeting for a play date at the park. I popped those two pee sticks in the car to 'think' and five minutes down the road, this is what I found:
I went into the park, saw the pirate mommas, and eventually spilled my news like I was talking about some stranger... After two miscarriages, you tend to get a little distant from your pregnancies during the early stages in case it doesn't end up resulting in a baby. On Thursday night I had coffee with fellow pirate Emily and came home feeling excited. I started thinking maybe this one will stick, maybe this one is meant to be, maybe Cole and Stella are meant to have a little brother or sister. I already had a name chosen (Everley Mae or Asher Miles from our previous name choices)...
At 3 am Friday morning, I woke up to pee and had some slight bleeding. At 8 am, I woke up covered in blood and immediately freaked out. Shaking and crying hysterically in the bathroom, the miscarriage started as soon as I sat down on the toilet. I cried even harder and tried to wipe the blood off of myself, until finally giving in and moving blindly toward the shower running, where I knew my husband would be. I climbed in the shower and shook, holding him and howling hysterically because we had just lost another baby.
Since then, I have been resting and trying to keep my thoughts in check. Kevin is taking care of the kids and making sure I get enough to eat and drink.
My first miscarriage happened when Cole was 7 months old. It was a blighted ovum, where my body thinks I'm pregnant and a gestational sac grows, but no baby grows inside it. That really made us want to try for another baby, which resulted in Stella being born in December 2010.
My second miscarriage occurred in April 2012, without my knowledge. After missing my period and getting a positive test, I started the next morning and got a negative test. The ultrasound established the pregnancy had been on my left side and had occurred so early on that I wouldn't have even known if I wasn't so aware of my body.
This time, I knew I was pregnant and was hopeful, but it didn't take. Blood tests showed my progesterone levels were low, making the uterus lining unable to carry the pregnancy. Most likely, this was the case in the April miscarriage, too.
So here I sit, on my third miscarriage with two beautiful babies I am able to hold in my arms to get me through this. I am so grateful for their love and the support of my husband and amazing women who have been there, or haven't been there and just want to show their love and support.
Miscarriage is something no one ever talks about; why shouldn't we? Isn't it better to know we're not alone than to suffer through it in silence?
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Late Night Ramblings
....It's late.
The kids have been asleep for hours
and the buzz of the tattoo machine
could lull me to sleep
if the lines on my skin weren't so painful.
Florence + the Machine plays in the
background-
lifting me up, providing my peace,
chasing away the devil in me.
I keep trying to hold my head up
but some days I'm just tired of trying
and I want to throw in the towel
but
there isn't a clean one
to throw anywhere.
Tattoos are my escape,
my meditation, my passion.
My ink tells stories of
love and memories and reminders to be
strong-
because at times strength leaves my
hands,
leaving the darkness to set in
and stormy waves crashing in my days
when i'd much rather them be sunny.
I think of what made me-
dirt roads and midnight drives,
scribbling poetry on napkins at the
coffee shop late at night.
The first apartment where I lived alone
in the third story of a historic
building above one of the many town bars,
where I could lay on the floor to hear
the echo of the bands playing below.
The music spoke to me-
inspiration was abundant in that studio
with the fire escape
that holds many memories of snowy night
guitar serenades
and English tea and sleepless nights..
and heartbreak.
In this home i am surrounded by love and light,
the faces of my babies, the calls of 'mommy',
the late-night talks and cuddles a reminder of just how sweet life is
with the hum of the tattoo machine at my ear.
*
Sunday, September 16, 2012
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