Connecting Dots

There are few things in life that I love more than sleep, so when insomnia strikes, I'm not a happy camper.

Despite my love of sleep, it evaded me Monday (7/18/16) night and I found myself slinking out of bed around 1:30 am to go be miserable in the basement (aka, surf the web on my phone).

This pregnancy really hasn't been symptomatic (no morning sickness), but I've had persistent fatigue and... gas.  Yup, gas bubbles were waging war on my tummy that night and there was no end in sight.  I decided it'd be a good idea to listen to the song I'd been obsessed with since I learned of Pia's existence: Wrap Me In Your Arms (Lisa Gungor's version)...

I've heard this song about a million times, but sitting there, in the dark, hurting and feeling helpless, the lyrics just struck me - this song so completely applies to my sweet Pia...

Of course, I broke out in tears.  Emotions all over the place.  God let me nurture this baby, but her spirit rests with him.  It's 2 am and I'm upset and in awe of God...

Then I start thinking about her name (of course, I have no medical confirmation that she's a girl.  I just KNOW).  From the instant I saw the smile on Babe's face, I knew I'd get to name this baby.  I'd decided she should be named in honor of my grandmother.  My granny raised me and I love her dearly (she passed in 2003), however, there was no way I was naming a baby girl "Phyllis" (no offense if your name is Phyllis - it just seems like a very mature name for a baby, IMHO).  Instead, I decided she should have the same initials - P.L.S.

As I laid there crying, I went to go refresh my memory on the meaning of the name Pia...

Basically, a feminine derivative of the word "pious"...

Looking at the first and fifth definitions just tugged at my heart strings.  Of course, I couldn't stop at Pia - I had to look up Leilani...

Are you seeing what I'm seeing?  Feel free to think me a nutter (I kinda am), but "child of heaven".  Really, Lord? How much clearer could you make this?  It's 3am... I'm tired and frustrated and here God is connecting my dots, telling me that this has been His plan from the beginning - He wrote her name on my heart, but He'd always intended for her to be in His arms - a child of heaven.

Needless to say, I didn't drift off until 4am.  Tuesday was rough, but I definitely felt like something had shifted in my brain.  It's just taking a while for my heart to get on board.

Frustration

I tried my best to think positive during the week between my initial ultrasound on 7/8/16 and my scheduled follow up on 7/13/16.  I even found a site called misdiagnosedmiscarriage.com which gave me hope that there was still a chance that Pia would make it and I could put this crazy miscarriage business behind me.

Still, I wanted to be cautious.  I contacted 2 of my friends who'd had their own miscarriage journeys and let them know what was going on.  I can't even begin to tell you how much it meant to me to hear their stories, know that they'd managed to carry on with life and continue to praise God, and that they were praying over me and Pia meant (and still does) the world to me!

Fast forward to 7/13.  All the blogs and prayers just couldn't dull the horrible feeling that we'd lost Pia.  Babelicious tried to cheer me up on the way to our appointment.  This man, who hates selfies, whipped out his phone and began making a video for Pia.  I know he wanted stop my anxiety.  I'm generally a super optimistic person so it really bothers him to see me down.

I put on my game face and tried to steel myself for the visit.  I prayed literally nonstop from the minute I laid on the table for the ultrasound tech.  Once again, silent measuring.  Why does this suck so stinking much?  I know they (the techs) can't say anything, but the silence is like a dagger in the heart.

The tech didn't bother to do a transvaginal this time.  She just told me I could get dressed and she would send another doctor in to talk to me since my ob/gyn was out of the office that day.

We waited six eternities for the doctor to come in (I'm sure it was closer to 20 minutes, but that's what it felt like).  I continued to pray during that wait.  I just knew that I would melt into a blubbering mess if she came in and told me bad news.  Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened.  This poor woman, whom I didn't know from Adam, had to come in and explain that my HCG levels were such that the dates weren't off and that we should be seeing a heartbeat.  We were not.  She, just as my ob/gyn had, explained that there was nothing I did to cause "this", just sometimes errors occur as the chromosomes split and we could try again and blah... blah... I don't freaking wanna hear you, lady... blah.

She then handed me a couple of packets of information and explained, as my ob/gyn had the previous week, the missed miscarriage options:  they could perform a D&C, give me pills that would induce me, or I could wait for my body to miscarry naturally.  I opted for the later.  I'm not delusional, but I just can't bare the thought of taking matters into my own hands knowing that doctors have gotten this wrong for other women.  Nope, I may not be super happy about God's choices at the moment, but I do trust His timing.

Needless to say, the ride home was like walking the green mile.  Knowing end of life is coming and not having a clue what it'll be like or at what exact moment.  I should've been going home with a beautiful clear new ultrasound of a healthy baby and instead I had this cold stark gut punch of literature my hands...



Uggh... Not at all what I wanted.  Not at all.

When we got home, I decided it would be best to tell my younger son, since I had no clue when the actual miscarriage would take place.  I didn't want him shocked or scared if I suddenly started cramping and/or bleeding.  That sweet little man put his arm around me and said "God knows best".  As much as I could not and can not understand what is best about losing my Pia, I know it's the truth.  Isaiah 55:8-9

The rest of that day was pretty much spent in bed and texting my few friends who knew that it looked like the worst was happening.  Again, my friends were amazing and supportive.  I really don't know what I would do without their support and prayers.

Devastation

This is the sucky part...

So, we made an appointment with my ob/gyn for 7/8/16.  I was so excited because I knew we'd get an ultrasound and I was anxious to confirm how far along I was. (My periods have been crazy sporadic, so nailing down a date on my own was tricky).  I suspected that I would be 8 weeks along at my appointment.

When the ultrasound tech begin, I didn't think anything of her silence.  She'd found some fibroids and was clicking away with measurements and such.  She then mentioned that we'd need to do a transvaginal ultrasound, since she was having a hard time spotting "Baby P" (that's what I'd started calling her when the kids weren't around).



She did the transvaginal and found my tiny little Pia, but that's when I noticed things felt off.  I was expecting to see movement.  I was expecting to see a heartbeat.  I was expecting excited tones from the tech and information about my exact gestation and due date.  Instead I got "You can get dressed.  I'm going to have Dr. O talk to you."  That immediately made me go into panic and prayer mode.  Have I mentioned that I have anxiety disorder?  Yeah, that pretty much brought on a lovely little panic attack.

As the tech instructed, I got dressed and hubby (aka Babelicious) and I headed to a different room where my ob/gyn would come talk to us.  Babelicious tried to get me to smile; tried to be comforting; but I was already convinced that things were bleak.  I hadn't mentioned to him, but I was already freaked out by my lack of morning sickness.  I'd never had a pregnancy without morning sickness, so this was bringing to the forefront all of the panicky thoughts I'd stuffed to the rear corners of my mind.

When my ob/gyn came in, he informed me that Pia had no heartbeat.  He briefly mentioned that we could be off on the dates, which would mean her heart just hadn't formed yet, but then went on to explain that I could be having a missed miscarriage.  I'd never heard of such a thing in my life, but it basically means that at some point your baby stops developing, but your body doesn't get the memo.  Your uterus continues to grow and your pregnancy hormones continue to climb.  No spotting, no cramping, just a little angel floating around in your womb, waiting to be discovered and passed.

My ob/gyn decided they should take my blood and have me come back in a week for another ultrasound, just incase Pia's dates were off.  By then, he believed she should have a heartbeat, since she was already measuring 6 weeks and a few days at that appointment.

I really don't have words to describe how I felt.  I couldn't imagine why God would let me find out I was pregnant only to discover that I would never get to so much as hold her in my arms and smell her sweet head.  I was crushed on a million levels.  When I got home, I decided it would be best to let my older son know what we were facing.  I knew I'd continue to be an emotional wreck and there'd be no way to hide it.  He was amazing, as always.  He hugged me and let me know that he would pray for his baby sister and me.  He was a bright spot on a very bleak day.

Shock and Elation!

In case you don't know me personally and haven't already read the "about", I'm a married, 40 year old, mom of two sons (at the time of this post, they are 19 and almost 12) as well as Pia.

That's where the shock comes in.  I was completely under the assumption that I was perimenopausal and no longer a candidate for pregnancy.

I'll explain and set the TMI tone right now (as I'm sure this journal will be full of that)... Due to recurring cysts, I had my left ovary removed back in the fall of 2014.  I turned 40 in November of 2015 and was feeling pretty awesome up until February of 2016.  That's when I quit taking birth control and begin a roller coaster ride of emotions, chronic fatigue, and weight gain.  In fact, those symptoms are what caused me to visit my GP in the first place.  I was sure I was in perimenopause or having thyroid issues.  Imagine my shock when she called me the morning of July 1st, 2016 and told me that my lab work showed that I was pregnant.  The conversation went kind of like this...

Her: Hi, Jami!  I got the rest of your lab work back.
Me:  Awesome.
Her: I want to be the first to congratulate you.
Me: <silence and confusion>
Her: You're pregnant!
Me: Stop it!
Her: No, you're really pregnant.  I bet that's a surprise.
Me: I'm 40.
Her: Yes, and pregnant...

There was more, but you get the jest.  I was surprised, to say the least.

I hung up the phone and impatiently waited for my husband (we work from home) to finish his conversation so I could spring the news on him.  He'd just paid off our house the day before, so I had no clue what his reaction would be.  When I told him, he broke into the biggest grin!  I'd never felt so relieved in my life.  ***More TMI*** For months, I'd been telling him we were fine, no contraceptives needed.  I truly believed that with all my heart, but boy was I ever wrong.  I even took a home pregnancy test to make sure my GP hadn't mixed up the labs...

So much for a mix up.  No mistaking that result.

The next few days were filled scheduling ob/gyn appt, mad googling of pregnant 40 year olds, pregnant fitness instructors, and cute maternity workout clothes.  Of course I took the obligatory belly shot the day after we found out (we decided to refer to Pia as "Pineapple" so we could talk about her without letting the kids know so early)....


May not look like much to most, but for me it was great to finally know what had caused my weight gain, fatigue, and crazy emotions.  A precious surprise baby trumps menopause or thyroid problems any day!