Seven years ago today I lost my first baby.
Seven years and seven weeks ago today I became pregnant for the first time. I had been married for sixteen years.
I still remember feelings of gratitude and love. Love for my baby and gratitude for having experienced pregnancy at all. I never thought I would experience pregnancy for any amount of time. I was still in awe of every detail of my pregnancy. My baby miraculously growing from a single cell into a human being with a beating heart. My own body changing in ways I never thought possible. Morning sickness was a treat I welcomed.
Also were the profound sense of loss and grief. The "It's not fair!" and "Why me?" kept ringing in my ears. I screamed those words over and over, if only in my head, begging my God for an answer. I stayed in bed for two days, and cried. I know this is shallow but...I was also embarrassed. How do I face all my family and friends who had rejoiced with me just days and weeks earlier? I didn't have answers yet I knew I would be facing their questions. I felt as if I were a failure. A fraud. Betrayed by my own body.
It happened on Saturday. Monday I saw my Infertility Specialist. After checking my HCG he announced that I had completely and on my own ejected everything. He told me that I may have cysts on my ovaries as was common with my PCOS and infertility treatments (meds, injections and IUI). He performed a vaginal ultrasound and saw no sign of anything out of the ordinary. "Perfect" he said, "Since your still bleeding from the the miscarriage we'll treat it as a normal cycle and start you on your meds now." I did so and in June concieved my daughter Isabel.