only time will tell

Well, I honestly don't even know where to start with getting you all caught up to speed... so excuse me if my thoughts are a little scattered.  It's been a complete rollercoaster the last 4 months or so, and I can't even express in writing all of the intense feelings I have felt in this time. 

Remember this post from back in February about the guys' outdoor "Winter Classic" game and how awesome it was?  Well, it was, indeed, awesome.... but for me, not so much.  For me, it marked my 6th (known) day of my first ever pregnancy, and, unfortunately, the last. 

We found out the previous Sunday- January 30th- that we were expecting our first little "Baby D."  We had just started "pulling the goalie" that month (sorry, had to use the lame hockey reference to lighten things up a bit :) )  and had no idea what to expect.  So, needless to say, we were over the moon (and have the pictures from that afternoon to prove it!)  That week was spent shopping for What to Expect When You're Expecting and The Everything Daddy-to-Be books, making sure our already healthy diets were even healthier, and quietly sharing our elated-ness with eachother. 

We had no idea our whole little bubble of excitement would be turned upside down in a matter of a week.  And on the same day as the Winter Classic game, none-the-less.  By Saturday morning, we had a pretty good idea that our happy little lives may not be happy for much longer.  I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed under the covers and not come out for a week or two, and I know J would have been right there with me.  But, there are no 'sick' or 'personal' days in hockey- certainly not on the day of the biggest game of the year.  You just keep on keepin' on...

I was already planning to host the other wives' & girlfriends at our place before the game, since we lived right next to the stadium.  Since no one knew I was pregnant (& we weren't even positive what was 'wrong') I dried my tears and put my best big-girl smile on.  It was, after all, the biggest game of the year- no way I was missing that! 

Things got progressively worse during the game, and on top of that, the hubs was struggling out there.  Funny thing is, I didn't even notice him having a rough time with everything I had going on in my head (which, for those of you who know me, is a huge surprise.  I am the queen of critiquing his play- good and bad!)  As cool and exciting as the game was, I wanted to get the heck out of there... FAST.  I missed the after-party with the team & hubs had to make a quick appearance and book it home to be by my side.  Sure, the party wasn't that big of a deal.... but I can think of about a million places I'd have rather been than in our bed having that experience that night. 

It absolutely broke my heart that the experience of that game was ruined for both of us.  Could not have been worse timing.  And, oh, that's not all of my sob story.  Not even close.  I not only had to run home that night to tend to my body, but I was supposed to hop on Skype to talk with my Grandpa whose cancer was getting progressively worse and wasn't expected to make it more than a couple weeks.  Once again, time to put on my big girl face and act like I just had the time of my life at the game.  The emotions of everything- the miscarriage, my Grandpa- were some of the most overwhelming I've ever felt.  I'm crying just sitting here thinking about it.

As difficult as it was, I am eternally thankful that I was able to talk to and see my Grandpa that night on Skype.  It broke my heart to be so far away at the very end of his life.  He was such a wonderful man and has provided me with so many amazing childhood memories that I will never, ever forget.  I am lucky to have called him "Grandpa" (even though my biological grandfather had passed away before I was born) and am so happy to have had him in my life.  He passed away the following Friday.

Throughout the next couple days after the Winter Classic game, our fears were confirmed.  I had an early miscarriage at right around 5 weeks.  It all happened naturally, and by the time I saw the doctor that Wednesday it was complete.  We were crushed, and as bad of timing it was when it had started, the day after the "Winter Classic" started a week-long break in the league, which helped so much.  We skipped town to Stockholm to have a few much needed days away.  After returning from Stockholm, the grief was (slowly) wearing and we were starting to accept our fate.  The doctor had put no restrictions on trying again, so we began right away. 

In the meantime, exactly one week after my Grandpa passed away, my Uncle passed away from cancer as well.  I don't think our hearts could have taken much more at that point.  February 2011 was officially the.worst.month.ever.  "At least it's the shortest month" is the only positive thing I could think of to keep reminding myself.

So, February's twenty-eight days finally came and went, and we were onto March.  Whew, we made it out alive.  Not long into the new month- 9 days to be exact- we learned that we were pregnant again (!!).  We were soooo excited, and shocked.  We had no idea it would happen so fast.  But this time, there was a new feeling in the air as well: fear.  The first pregnancy was so ignorantly blissful- we would have never imagined those first days that our sweet little one wouldn't make it.  Miscarriage?  Nah, not us.  We're 24.  We're beyond healthy.  That sort of thing only happened to older couples or people who lived unhealthy lifestyles, didn't it?  WRONG.  Now we were living with the knowledge that it can happen to us, we're not immune to miscarriage.  Pregnancy loss doesn't discrimiate.

We decided to be "cautiously optimistic" this time around and would take it week by week, day by day.  My first doctor's appointment was scheduled for March 30th, which seemed like an eternity away.  Until then, all we could do was make sure I was doing everything right, and that dreaded four letter word: wait.  The days came and went, and finallllllllllllly March 30th came.  By this point, the guys had lost out of the first round of playoffs 2 days before and we were scheduled to head home April 2nd.  I was terrified sitting and waiting at the doctor, not knowing what to expect.  We went in, she flipped on the ultrasound screen, and there it was.  Our little peanut, heartbeat flickering and all.  He/she only looked like a little blob, but it was amazing.  On top of that, we dated almost a full week ahead (7weeks 4days) of what I had predicted- skipping ahead a week? we'll take it! Plus, we also knew that the risk of miscarriage greatly drops once you see a heartbeat.  Ahhh, a sigh of relief.  We celebrated with lunch at Pizza Hut (one of our go-to's in Finland when we're missing home) and could not stop thinking and talking about all of the exciting things to come in our life.

I was a little nervous for our long plane ride home to the U.S. thanks to some of the lovely pregnancy symptoms I was having.  I cringe going to the bathrooms on planes in the first place (and will only do so when it's a realllly long flight, no matter how bad I have to go) and here I was, going every hour.  Gross.  Not to mention the lovely nausea- however, that was made better with the help of "sea bands"- bracelets used for motion sickness (I highly recommend them!).  And the worst part- the hunger!  I have a crazy appetite as it is, much less when my body is requiring extra calories and has a revved up metabolism.  I swear the flight attendant wanted to strangle me when J kept asking for more pretzels, crackers and Sprite for his wife... (I'm sure if I had had a big round, obviously pregnant belly at that point, she would have felt bad for the 'poor pregnant lady' and happily gave them to me, instead of basically throwing them at us).  But, we made it all in one piece.

We told our parents within a day or two of getting home.  We had told them about the miscarriage in February, so the "Surprise! You're going to be grandparents!" element was already kind of ruined anyways. Plus, we now had pictures of our little peanut and stories about seeing the heartbeat to share.  I was 8 weeks and some days at this point, and we were feeling pretty confident.  And speaking of 'feeling' things- I sure was feeling the pregnancy symptoms, alright.  Every night I went to bed with a big, bloated, full belly... and every morning I woke up (at 6am) starving and reaching for the pretzels I'd left on the nightstand the night before in anticiaption.  The fatigue was crazy- most nights I fell asleep on the couch or in a chair well before 8pm.  I can't imagine what it would have been like had I been working full time. I don't know how those ladies do it!  But as obnoxious as these crazy symptoms were, they kept a big, huge smile on my face, because surely it meant everything it was going right.  Right?

The first weeks of April we also happened to be staying at my in-laws, so we didn't have any unpacking or moving to do yet.  Lots of free time on our hands, which meant lots of planning, prepping and daydreaming.  We couldn't stop thinking about our little one- was it a boy or a girl, what he/she would look like, names, etc.  I had the thoughts all planned out in my head: we would find out the sex in middle-late June, just in time to go crazy at all of the adoreable little baby stores before we head back to Finland in July.  We bought more books, even a little outfit or two (unisex of course, just for fun!) and were (this) close to buying a stroller and carseat (we know exactly what one we want, and got pretty excited about it before we realized we better slow down a bit).  We had all kinds of time on our hands before we moved into our place and before my doctor's appointment on April 20th, and we spent the majority of it planning for "Baby D."

Then, the day of my appointment was finally here.  We knew we'd be getting an ultrasound, and were so excited to see our little peanut again, but this time looking more like a little human than a blob.  As I saw our little one appear on the screen, my heart started to race.  I knew instantly that it should be bigger than what I was seeing (I should know, I had googled what 10w 4d ultrasounds look like, after all <-- wow, that makes me sound like one of those crazy, intense pregnant ladies!  I'm not, I swear!)  and when she clicked around to measure the baby it showed up "8w2d".  My heart sank.  I frantically searched the screen for that beautiful little flickering heartbeat, but it wasn't so apparent like it was last time.  Then, she uttered the most heart-shattering of words:  "There doesn't seem to be a heartbeat.  I'm so sorry."

I froze.  It took a minute or two for the reality to sink in before I started to cry.  I looked over at J.  He was crushed also.  The doctor gave us a couple minutes, then sent us down to have a more thourough ultrasound done to be sure.  Before we knew it, we were scheduling my D&C surgery for the following Tuesday- the day after J's birthday.  I was supposed to be carrying out the Your Pregnancy Week by Week book and pamphlets along with beautiful ultrasound pictures of our baby and a huge smile on my face.  Instead all I got was a packet about miscarriage and my upcoming surgery, which instantly became stained from teardrops.

The rest of that week and Easter were really rough, I didn't want to do anything but lay on the couch and sob & yearn for my baby.  It made me sick to my stomach knowing that my sweet little baby was inside of me, but no longer living.  I felt like I had failed him or her, bigtime.  Millions of thoughts ran through our heads over the few weeks following- Why us?  Why did this happen?  What did we do wrong?  among many, many, many other things.  I kicked and screamed and cried-  All I wanted was for my baby back.  This wasn't supposed to happen, not again!

It has been an absolutely devistating time, and I can honestly say, our lives will never be the same.  The emotional pain has by far outweighed the physical pain of it all.  There are still so many questions left unanswered, and many of them will probably stay that way.  I really cannot even put into words what this experience has been like, or all of the different emotions I have felt, but I'm going to try, through this blog.  My perspective, my outlook on life, has all changed. The feelings are still very raw, but the "acceptance" stage has once again set in that we will no longer get to meet our little one in November. We're back to square one and I have no idea where life will take us from here.  Only time will tell.




*J and I agreed for me to write about such a personal time in our lives for a couple reasons.  One, the support we have gotten from opening up to family and friends has been amazing.  It's been very theraputic to talk to other people about this difficult time in our lives and know that we have their love, support and prayers.  It's amazing how many people you find out have had similar troubles or experiences that you just never knew about until it gets brought up.  That's another reason why I really wanted to write about it- I hate the fact that miscarriage & pregnancy loss is such a taboo subject.  If it's so common, why doesn't anyone speak about it?  The grief that couples experience with pregnancy loss is not any less significant than another loss.  Each was an individual child that was extremely loved, cared for, and dreamt about.  I know first-hand how great the support feels as a grieving person, and I cannot simply turn my head, shut my mouth, look the other way and move on like nothing has happened.   It's said that anywhere from 15-25% of recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage, so where the heck are all the other couples who've experienced a similar loss?  Are they suffering in silence?  How come it takes one person to "come out" about their troubles for all the rest to come out of the woodwork with their stories?  I want the other suffering women and men (hey, men grieve, too!) to know they are not alone and that they don't have to suffer in silence.  So, that's my third and final reason.  If we can help or inspire even one person through my blog, then I'm a happy woman.