3 years ago today, at just about this same time, Bobby and I found out that our precious peanut that we were so excited to finally have, was gone.
In July 2007, 3 days before Bobby's 27th Birthday, we under went our first IUI in Iowa City. August 8th, we found out that our treatment was successful and we began to anxiously await the 7 week ultrasound that would tell us how many I was carrying.
At that ultrasound, we got the one and only picture of our peanut and got to see it's heart beating for the first time. What a sight that was! After 3 years of trying, 1 year with help, we were seeing the beating heart of our child that was growing inside of me.
I was feeling great, no morning sickness, just some passing nausea. I was definitely having pregnancy symptoms. My chest area, already too large in my opinion, felt like I had bowling balls in my bra. I developed a sudden aversion to anything tomato, making foods like spaghetti, tacos, sloppy joes and pizza no longer my favorites. I did, however, become very fixated on Arby's roast beef sandwiches and grilled chicken salad with ranch dressing! At 11 weeks, I was to the point where jeans were still ok, but I was having to use the rubberband around the button trick on my dress pants.
And the shopping had begun. Bobby and I hit up a few garage sales, but we were good, the only thing we bought was a miniature Hawkeye jersey. But I was online every night looking at room ideas, bedding, clothes, strollers, car seats, etc.
Many people say 12 weeks is the magic time when it is "ok" to start telling friends and family the good news. But that goes right out the window when you have awesome friends and family who have been supporting you through our journey. People in my family and friend circle probably knew more about when my monthly period was due than when their own should come. They knew we had the procedure, and they knew when we should find out if it worked. And let's face it . . . after trying that long I wasn't going to keep it to myself for long. Within an hour of me getting that positive test, the crew at Namasco knew (due to the hysterical phone call my husband received while standing by his coworkers), Bobby's mom, my mom and dad, and several really close friends all knew. My SIL wouldn't answer her phone because she was shopping at Walmart and I think she probably had 10 missed calls from me :) I made it one whole day before telling my brother's girlfriend (now wife) and a whole 5 days before telling my brother (because he was living in Platteville, and I planned an "uncle" present for him). And after the 7 week ultrasound when we saw that tiny heart beating, I told people at work and my boss. You know, there is only a 1% chance of miscarriage after you see that beating heart.
1% seems so small, but in hindsight, it was looming right in front of us. On the evening of September 26, 2007, at 11 weeks 1 day pregnant, I came home to find some blood when I wiped after going to the bathroom. Frantic, we headed to the ER, where I was given an ultrasound and a Rhogam shot and told everything looked fine, but to follow up the next day with my regular OB. September 27, Bobby went to work and I made an appointment with my regular OB. I told him to stay at work, that we had been reassured the night before that everything was fine
and I didn't want him to waste the sick time. And I had no spotting since the previous night. But an hour before the appointment, I went to the bathroom and found blood again. I called Bobby and told him he better come with me. An hour later, the ultrasound tech confirmed that we had indeed lost our peanut.
3 years later, the hurt has dulled a bit. I can still cry about it today, but I can now talk about all of it without breaking down most days. I have found a voice in myself and have helped others through the process of infertility, etc. I have gotten several comments regarding this blog from people I didn't even know were struggling with the same issues we are.
Since my miscarriage, we have lost 3 important people in our lives that our children will only know through stories and pictures. But I know Dean, Scott and my grandpa are with our peanut now, trying to ease the hurt that all 4 of them have left in our hearts.
I can only hope that soon I will look into the eyes of my living, breathing child and see the reflection of our little peanut in them and know that they had a hand in our newest miracle.
Thank you to the family who has always been there for us . . . sometimes I feel silly holding on to this anniversary, like I should just get over it or something. But then someone else always remembers, and someone reaches out . . . and I realize I don't have to forget either.
Let our new journey begin!
