Ending Before the Beginning
“A flower bloomed already wilting. Beginning its life with an early ending.”
On July 19, 2018, my life already felt like it was in shambles. Ricky and I had split up after a big blowout. Trying to pull my life back together and start alone consumed most of my time, especially while trying to work. That day, it occurred to me that my period was late. It wasn’t until I looked at my tracking app that I realized I was five days late.
I remember the drive home, talking to my sister, Jennifer, and thinking about all the possibilities for a late period, other than the obvious one. Maybe it’s stress, maybe I’m premenopausal, or maybe I have cancer, I thought. There is NO WAY I could be pregnant.
One hour and two tests later, it was confirmed—I was pregnant. Pregnant as a single, obese, diabetic, thirty-eight-year-old woman. Great…
I sat on the toilet and cried. I called my sister and cried. She told me to calm down and drive to my mom’s, where I cried more and more. While my future with Ricky and his role with the baby were up in the air, my biggest concern was whether or not I could carry this baby to term.
At the first ultrasound, they measured me at 4 weeks and 5 days, when I should have been 6 weeks and 1 day, according to the first day of my last period. There was no heartbeat at that time. My next ultrasound measured the baby at 6 weeks and 2 days, with a heart rate of 127 beats per minute. The little piece of rice in my abdomen seemed to be thriving.
My kids were excited. Taylor had always wanted a little sibling. She nicknamed the baby Guppy. Tay and my mom went with me for the third ultrasound, and they saw Guppy's heart beating away at 167 beats per minute. I was 7 weeks and 5 days pregnant.
Over the next two weeks, I started spotting regularly, but the doctor assured me that it was normal during what they called a “geriatric pregnancy.” I’d rather hear advanced maternal age. Geriatric made me feel like I was 80 and having a baby.
On Wednesday, August 29, 2018, I started spotting a little more heavily at work. My doctor said I should go home, rest, and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. I’d been in a sideswipe car accident the day before, and while there was very little impact or damage, the doctor figured this was the reason for the increased spotting.
Then, the next morning, August 30, 2018, I saw not only increased spotting but also red blood and clots, like I was on a regular period. I knew something was wrong. I prayed and prayed, begging God to let it be something normal. I knew some women bleed during their pregnancies, and the baby is fine.
Unfortunately, after two and a half hours in the ER, two ultrasounds, and a pelvic exam, the doctor came in and gave me the news I’d been dreading—there was no heartbeat. The diagnosis was fetal demise at 8 weeks. Guppy was gone and had been gone since a couple of days after my last ultrasound.
Now, four days into this miscarriage, my feelings are coming in waves—physical pain from the cramping after deciding to allow my body to continue this process naturally and emotional pain from the loss, regret, and guilt. Part of me wishes the pregnancy had never happened, another part feels a great loss because this was probably my last chance to have a baby, and I also feel guilt because I’m positive my bad health contributed to Guppy’s death.
Guppy’s life ended before it began. I’d already read to Guppy, I’d talked to Guppy, and I had a name picked out—Riley. You fall in love with this entity that you’ve never even met, and you realize that your whole life is going to be different from what you’d imagined, so you start planning your new path. And then, in an instant, your future with this little person is ripped away, leaving you with nothing but pain to fill that void.
I don’t know if I’ll ever have the opportunity to have another child. I don’t know what the future holds for me. But, for now, I will endure the pain in my life and try to get back to healing my body.
Some people may think it is odd to write this blog and disclose this information after not formally announcing Guppy’s presence in the first place. But Guppy did exist. It wasn’t just some piece of organic material existing inside me. It was not a parasite. Guppy’s heartbeat made me cry on August 16th, and Guppy’s lack of a heartbeat made me cry harder on August 30th.
I’ll say a prayer for all the mothers who have lost a child, and all I ask is that you say one back for me.
