Hello and welcome, friend! 🥰
In my last post, I touched on a lighter topic. I want to keep a good balance on my blog so it’s not overwhelmingly depressing. Not just for myself, but for my loyal audience, as well. (Yes, you. 🥹💗)
If there are any topics that anyone would like to know more about, whether it be about my life, my career, my four-legged and no-legged children, etc., just drop a comment below!
I’ll do my best to answer your questions (within respectable boundaries).
For now, let’s get back into the nitty gritty.
The Journey Continues
I talked about the loss of my first pregnancy in this post, which is where we left off on my fertility journey.
I have never experienced anything like the grief that comes from losing a pregnancy. It’s more than just the loss of a life. It’s losing the future Jason and I had planned on and celebrated.
On top of that, I had so many questions and emotions running through me all at once.
Why was this happening to me? To us??
Why couldn’t my body do its job and keep this pregnancy safe?
Was I broken?
I was so hurt and, at the same time, so angry. No, I was furious!
I didn’t realize it then, but I was making my way through the five stages of grief.
- Denial: There was no way I wasn’t pregnant, I mean how could that possibly be? It was confirmed by my doctor, after all. I saw those two pink lines with my own eyes!
- Anger: This is all my stupid body’s fault. I’m a woman. Women’s bodies are meant to create life and bear children. What the hell is wrong with my body that it can’t even do what it’s meant to?
- Bargaining: I would give anything to have my baby. If I had this one child and never had another again, that would be enough.
- Depression: (I don’t think I need to get into this one.)
- Acceptance: (This one came later, much later – and you see this version of me throughout the stories I share with you now.)
Jason was so patient with me. He reminded me that none of it was my fault and that miscarriages are more common than everyone realizes.
(He has a very analytical mind and tends to do more research on facts and numbers than I ever do.)
I know he was trying to help and everything he told me was coming from a good place. But I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel angrier sometimes.
There were times when I didn’t want to be told anything rational – or anything at all, for that matter. I just wanted to be held while I cried and felt my feelings. But I didn’t want to tell him that. I didn’t want him to feel like he was making me feel worse.
Eventually, we did have a conversation about it and got on the same page. He apologized, even though he didn’t need to, saying he had been hurting as well, but he would never understand the extent of my pain for the loss my body had suffered.
I can’t express how grateful I am to share my life with this man. To be loved as deeply as you love them. 🥹
The Little Uterus That Couldn’t 💔
After some healing time, we decided we were going to keep trying, and I was back on Clomid again.
It was then that I felt the sadness of seeing a negative pregnancy test. Over and over. Month after month.
(As I had mentioned in my post, We Want A Baby, we got pregnant after the first attempt when my doctor first prescribed me Clomid.)
Every month that passed where I wasn’t pregnant was another month of devastation, frustration, and, let’s be honest, a whole ass temper tantrum! 😫
It doesn’t help that finding out you’re not pregnant also means the dreaded Aunt Flo is soon to arrive.
Who invited that bitch, anyway?! No one even likes her. SHE CAN’T SIT WITH US!
But I digress.
After several months of failed attempts, I went back to my doctor and asked if there was anything else we could try. I was getting quite impatient. At that point, she doubled my medication dosage, and we kept trying.
And guess what happened??
Nothing. That’s right, not a damn thing except more negative pregnancy tests!
I thought I was getting impatient before. But after a few more months, doubled dosage on my meds, and still no pregnancy, I was ready to throw hands. I don’t know who (or what) to throw them at, but the earrings were ready to be held. 💅
I went back to my doctor at the end of 2021 with the one question I wish I never had to ask…
“When do we decide it’s time to talk to a specialist?” 😓
Alas, the referral was sent.
On The Next Episode…
Come back for my next post, where I begin talking about our experience through fertility treatments.
If you haven’t already, follow me on IG @Vees.Journey and turn notifications on so you know exactly when my next blog drops!
Don’t forget to leave a comment and share my awesome blog near and far! 😘
I am so glad you have this way of connecting. It’s imprest for you and for others to know you are not alone. I experienced a fetal demise at 36 weeks and really had no one to talk to that understood my experience. That was in 1989. Even then no one talked about that kind of loss or the fact people were so uncomfortable with the subject, they not only didn’t know what to say, they would just stop talking to you. I’m glad you have a platform.