October 15th is a day steeped with meaning for me. It is a day that commemorates both joy and loss, fear and relief. It is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, and it is the day we found out we were expecting not just one, but two babies.
I was scrolling through some old documents last night and I came across one titled: Life Plans. If you don’t already know this about me, I love plans. I try to plan everything- or at least, I used to before the Pixie and the Bug came along and I learned that there are some things you just can’t plan for. My “Life Plan” started with June of 2012 and went all the way up through the year 2016. 2016! As I read over my plan that starkly laid out my hopes and dreams, two entries made my eyes well up with tears. Both were in July 2012.
For those of you who aren’t as familiar with United Methodist ordination lingo as I am, DCOM is the District Committee on Ordained Ministry, and BOOM is the Board of Ordained Ministry. You must first pass through the DCOM before going to BOOM, who ultimately decides if you can be ordained or not.
I went to the DCOM that July, and I was told “not yet”. It was an incredibly stressful day, filled with hours of interviews that are more like oral exams than conversations. I was devastated.
We returned home and for the next week I felt off. Something wasn’t right. I was tired, I felt sick to my stomach, I was crampy and at times experienced what I can only describe as a burrowing sensation in my lower abdomen. The day of my period came and went, as did the next day and the next. When I realized that I was now a week late and on a Friday I took a pregnancy test. A very faint second line appeared, and I remember collapsing to the ground, laughing and crying. I was pregnant.
RevEv didn’t believe the test, the line was so faint, so the next morning I got up early and drove to the drugstore to get a different test. I took it as soon as I got home, and the word emerged clear as day: Pregnant. We were excited, and nervous, and I was so very happy. We celebrated with breakfast at the diner, then walked to the library to get out books. What to Expect When You’re Expecting. What to Eat When You’re Expecting. A whole stack of books that we split between us to carry home. I told my close friend who quickly did the math: my due date was March 30, the day before Easter. My head and my heart were filled with hopes and dreams for this child that I had wanted and had come as such a surprise. I could see him- or her- being passed around the congregation I served. I could see us singing in the seminary chapel, saw them take their first steps among the old oak trees on campus. Saw them being held and loved by the people I loved.
Monday was the first day of Vacation Bible School; thirty little bundles of joy running around causing a ruckus all morning. When they had all been picked up and I was done cleaning I went into the bathroom and discovered I was bleeding. By Wednesday it had been confirmed by blood tests and an ultrasound. I had been pregnant, and now I wasn’t. I had lost my baby.
I struggled to use the word “miscarriage”. It had been so early- SO early that if I hadn’t taken that pregnancy test I wouldn’t have even known I was pregnant. But I did take the test, and I did know. For three wonderful days I had created a lifetime of hopes and dreams, and just like that they were gone.
It took me nine months to mourn the loss of my baby. As I slowly told people about my loss I was surrounded with love and support, but I was still very afraid of it happening again.
In the fall of 2013 we decided we were ready to start trying to conceive. I was cleared by my doctors, and was told that because of my previous early pregnancy loss I should schedule an appointment as soon as I got a positive pregnancy test. On September 25, the anniversary of our very first date, I took a test. It was the day my period should have started, and I was so sure that I wasn’t pregnant I took the test in the basement of Seminary Hall just minutes before my Greek class was to begin. I had spent the 45 minute car ride trying not to get my hopes up, trying to tell myself that it was crazy to even waste the test. But the thought kept creeping up: wouldn’t it be cool if we found out on our anniversary?
I tried not to look at the test that was sitting on the floor between my feet as I waited the three minutes, eagerly watching the clock to make sure I wasn’t late for class. When I looked down I couldn’t believe what I saw: it had lit up like a Christmas tree in no time at all! Pregnant! I cried with surprise and relief, then had to pull myself together to run upstairs to class.
On October 15 we waited in the OB/GYN office and I was terrified. I was so afraid that, once again, the ultrasound would show that my womb was empty. That maybe the test had been wrong. I tried to hold back tears of joy and relief when the doctor pointed out the egg sack, and what would become the placenta. And then she pointed to something else, and said, “and here’s a second.”
We started laughing, and I was screaming “Oh my God!” over and over- we made such a commotion one of the nurses poked her head to see if everything was alright! Just as the shock and joy was beginning to sink in, the doctor gave us sobering news. Because it was so early, only 6 weeks and a few days, there was a chance that one of the babies would be “absorbed”. I would have to come back in ten days to see if there were still two.
Those were the longest ten days of my life. Ten days of waiting, and hoping, and praying. Ten days of trying to not get too attached to the idea of having two little ones growing inside of me. Ten days of being afraid.
I went back to the doctor on October 25, the anniversary of our engagement, very, very afraid. And there they were, two little gummy bears, with two little heartbeats. And Baby B’s little arm buds were spread wide as if to say, “I’m here!”
