Last on “The Decision to Mother” I shared that we decided on Clomid and Ultrasound monitoring instead of IUI. The story continues…
I began Clomid immediately following my surgery (click here to check out my prescribed protocol). Less than three weeks after my surgery to remove a polyp, unblock a tube, and clean up some minor endometriosis I was pregnant. My heart was so full. I couldn’t believe that it had happened so quickly. That was the hope though, wasn’t it? In 9 months our dreams of 2 becoming 3 would be reality; I asked the staff if I could share the news with family (aka- anyone and everyone I came in contact with). They said to wait until the first ultrasound which would be about 10 days post pregnancy test. Their lack of enthusiasm gave me pause but I was determined to live in joy, hope and faith that this little miracle would be in my arms in 9 months.
If you are going to the RE you will get weekly ultrasounds** starting around week 5 or 6 and lasting until week 11. This was a huge perk! Finally- a perk! During week 5 I had my first ultrasound. The technician told me to not expect anything other than a yolk sac – no heart beat, no distinguishable baby bean. But we saw a blinky beat. Our baby was alive. He was growing. We were thrilled.
- Week 6- Another ultrasound. Baby was measuring great and the heart beat was strong.
- Week 7. Another ultrasound. Baby was measuring great and the heartbeat was strong.
- Week 8. Another ultrasound. Baby was measuring great and the heartbeat was strong.
- Week 9. Another ultrasound. The week of Thanksgiving. No heartbeat. NO HEARTBEAT.
“Look again,” I said. “Get the doctor to look.” They turned on the color on the ultrasound monitor so that they would be able to see blood flow. The doctor came in. I couldn’t tell what I was looking at. It was all so confusing. Then, they turned up the sound on the machine. Perhaps it was the angle of the ultrasound wand. Of course- it was a human error or a technical difficulty.
Boom boom. Relief. A heart beat.
“Oh, there it is!!!” I shouted.
“That’s your heart beat, Lori,” she said.
With eyes that said it all she spoke the words, “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said to me and the Mister. “Take as much time as you need.”
No. This wasn’t real. “What?” I barely whispered. And she walked out of the room.
I dressed and they moved us to what I called “the cry room”. It was just a small room with a little table and chairs. I cried. We cried. I felt like I couldn’t leave that room. If I did, it would be true. We’d lost our baby.
After I left the room
They gave me options for trying to miscarry on my own (which would likely be weeks away) or schedule surgery (a D & C and a D & E- and their recommendation). I chose surgery. My heart just couldn’t handle the physicality of losing the baby. To contract. To bleed. To see our dream being lost. I chose surgery.
I went into surgery and the reality of what was happening became a crushing blow. It was so overwhelming that I prayed to never wake from the anesthesia. I tried to will myself to not wake up. I was so sad.
I had baby pictures (ultrasounds). But we hadn’t met this baby, never held him, never called him by name. We decided that we would find something to symbolize our sweet baby. We bought a ring as a memorial for our sweet baby. It’s a lovely little ruby with diamond chips embedded in the band. The ruby is symbolic of the space in our hearts that our little bean owned. We also decided to name our sweet blessing. He existed. He needed a name. Cailey. That was his name. (though we did not know the gender of the baby at the time of surgery, we did find out 3 weeks later that we had lost a son 46XY)
The bible says that God knew us before we were in our mother’s womb. I can relate to that in some ways; I had a space in my heart reserved for our future children. But the truth was that I never met this baby. I didn’t know him but I so desperately didn’t want to forget him. I needed a name and I needed a (metaphorical) ruby.
The World Keeps On Moving
Thank goodness life didn’t stop. I had a husband. I had work. And we still had a dream for a family. It took me exactly 40 days before I could dream of the hope for another baby. It was 40 days because the doctor called and told me it was time to come back and talk. I didn’t feel 100% ready, but it seemed God used her to tell me it was time. So we talked. I cried on her shoulder. I asked “why?!” a million times. She comforted me with spiritual wisdom (which shocked me and yet settled me). She scheduled another round of clomid to begin immediately. (it just so happened that my cycle, her call, and the clomid timeline all coincided exactly 🙂 )
This is a series of postings that I share at the beginning of each week. Please return next week for the continuation of my infertility story. You can start from the beginning of the story by clicking here or going to the tab at the top titled Infertility Story.
**the ultrasound picture is one of our 4 living children. The ultrasounds I have of the son we lost are kept in a private journal and will remain part of my heart but not appear on the blog.