Long story...
I have been with my boyfriend for nearly two years. We are both over 40 and divorced, so while we have talked about marriage, we aren't rushing to do it, either. What we are rushing to do at this point is have a baby. We both both really want children, and we know the clock is ticking. Last year, after we had been together for about 8 months and knew we were committed to one another, we decided to start trying. I started charting and we literally got pregnant the first month. We were cautiously optimistic (knowing the higher percentages of miscarriage at my age), but excited, too. I called an OB/GYN who was recommended to me by a friend when I was 5 weeks along. They scheduled me an appointment for the following week, and later that day, I miscarried. (It also happened to be the anniversary of my father's passing, so it was an emotionally difficult day already.)

It was devastating, but at the same time, since I had only known I was pregnant for a few days, I hadn't really connected with the baby or the fact that I was really, truly pregnant. The miscarriage was basically like a slightly heavier period that came a week late. I talked about it with my counselor, but I never really grieved the loss because although I felt it, it was still somewhat abstract for me.

I told the OB what had happened, and they told me to come in anyway so they could make sure the miscarriage was complete. It was, but the doctor found some fibroids when he did the ultraound, and we decided that since I wanted to try again, at my age the best course of action was a hysteroscopic myomectomy to remove the fibroids with a short recovery time. I had the surgery in January of this year, with my boyfriend and my mother standing by, but when I woke up, I was told that there had been too much bleeding when they started, so they didn't actually remove any of the fibroids. (They are relatively small - about 1 1/2 - 2cm - and there are only two or three of them.) They also did a laparoscopy to check my tubes, and the doctor said they were clear. However, because of the placement of the fibroids and the inability to remove them, the doctor asked my mother and boyfriend to help him break the news to me that I would not be able to have a baby. He didn't even do it himself - I had to hear it from my mom on the car ride home while I was still coming out of the anesthesia - I just knew something was wrong, so I forced her to tell me. The doctor did suggest that I could see an REI doctor to see if anything could be done for us.

A few weeks later, I decided to get a second opinion from another OB/GYN since fertility treatment is not covered by my insurance. This doctor was appalled that the previous one would make such a statement, and when she did a hysteroscopy to see the fibroids for herself, she said that they were few and small and didn't concern her. She encouraged me to continue charting and using OPKs and trying to get pregnant. She also suggested I see the REI doctor if I wasn't successful after a couple of months.

I did all of those things, and in September I was told by the REI doc that I had "failed" the Clomid challenge and my AMH levels were not good. She said that she and the other doctors in her practice felt that removal of the fibroids was necessary and then IVF would be the only realistic way I'd get pregnant again (my boyfriend's count is low, too). In fact, they also suggested I use donor eggs since mine are probably not in great condition. While I was contemplating this major news and trying to decide when to have the surgery again, we got pregnant again! To say it was a miracle would be an understatement. We were shocked and excited and, again, cautiously optimistic. I was also TERRIFIED!

I kept waiting for symptoms and was happy every time I felt something that indicated things were progressing "normally." I never really had morning sickness, but I had other symptoms that aligned with early pregnancy, so I was satisfied. I had my first OB appointment - with yet another doctor - on the day I reached 8 weeks. My sister came with me (since my boyfriend has just moved away for a new job...) and we got to see the fetus and even the flutter of its heartbeat. There were MANY tears (even from the doctor). The next night, I started spotting a little, but it was brown and they told me that was totally normal following a pelvic exam and it was just old blood. The next day I had some very mild cramps along with continued spotting, and I called the doctor to ask if that was normal. They said as long as it was still brown, it was fine, and light cramps are normal at that stage of pregnancy. The weekend brought more of the same, and then, on Monday (of Thanksgiving week) I passed a large, brown clot. I called the doctor again and they said it was probably fine since it was still old blood, but that I should go to the ER to have everything checked out.

I went to the ER and they did an HCG test and another ultrasound. The fetus was still there, and it even looked larger than it had the previous week. We couldn't see a heartbeat, though, and the doctor said their equipment was not very good and it was early enough in the pregnancy that it wasn't surprising they couldn't see it there. They said my HCG was in the right range for how far along I was, told me to get it tested again in two days, scheduled me a follow up with my OB the following Monday, said to take it easy, and sent me home. I stayed home from work the next day and continued to spot. I obsessively analyzed the color of the blood to make sure it was still "old." I attributed the increase to all the prodding they had done during the ultrasound, but I really only spotted when I used the bathroom and wasn't soaking even a pantyliner. On Tuesday evening it got much heavier and I had some more cramping (really mild), and I panicked. This was, believe it or not, the one year anniversary of my first miscarriage (and the 8th anniversary of losing my Dad), and I couldn't believe it was happening again. I decided to see what happened overnight before going back to the ER. Things subsided and I went through the night without incident.

Wednesday was almost exactly the same. I had made it to 9 weeks, and I went for my HCG test that afternoon. My boyfriend was also driving down for Thanksgiving, and I knew he'd be there in the evening, so we were looking forward to the results of the bloodwork to get us through to the follow up on Monday. Unfortunately, we couldn't get the results back before the lab closed, but the day had been pretty calm, so I was hopeful. When my boyfriend arrived, he went in to take a shower. We were looking forward to a nice evening before the holiday.

Then, it all changed. I could feel it change. The bleeding was heavier and there was no mistaking the color; it wasn't old anymore. I wrestled with what to do, and when he came out of the shower I told my boyfriend I needed to go to the ER. They tested the HCG again and said when they got the results back they would do another ultrasound. It was the longest hour of my life. I needed to use the bathroom before they did the ultrasound, so I got up and went around the corner from my room in the ER. While I was in the bathroom, I passed a large clot and when I looked at it, I could see the sac. They had told me on Monday that if I passed a large clot I should keep it for the doctor for analysis, so when I saw it there, I froze for a minute and then scooped it out. I totally disassociated with what was happening and went into survival mode - I have been there ever since. I gave it to a nurse and went back to my room where I told my boyfriend what I thought had just happened. For a minute, I had let myself believe that I was wrong. I had had a nightmare a week or two earlier and it was EXACTLY what ended up happening, so I honestly believed for a minute that I was dreaming. Sadly, that wasn't the case. A few minutes later, the doctor came in and confirmed my worst fears. She said my HCG had dropped and the ultrasound confirmed that the fetus was gone.

I went numb and spent Thanksgiving on the couch, crying on and off throughout the day. I've been putting one foot in front of the other for three weeks now, and since no one really knows what's been going on, I've been doing it alone. We had only shared with five people in our inner circle, and I only told my boss because I had to leave work to go to the ER. No one understands why I've been more withdrawn or irritable than usual, and I don't feel like I can tell them.

At the follow up the next Monday, they confirmed that everything was complete. I had almost no cramping, and the bleeding was no worse than a heavy period, so they expected that I would need a D&C, but one more ultrasounds confirmed that it was essentially over. We have already started talking about next steps - another surgery to actually remove the fibroids, the possibility of IVF, etc., and that hope has allowed me to not process the loss.

This past Wednesday, I got a reminder from one of the newsletters I had subscribed to that I was at 12 weeks! It hit me like a ton of bricks. The importance of that milestone; the fact that we were going to tell all of our people our big news at Christmas after having cleared the first trimester. I realized that I'm depressed. I am ambivalent about, well, pretty much everything. I am sad. I feel empty - literally empty.

So, that's where I am. I know it was long, and I don't expect anyone to have read the whole saga, but it helps me to write it out. I am looking for support and I'm offering mine to others who are going through this kind of loss. I'm praying for us all. Thanks for "listening."