A Light in the Darkness

Everyone has their own concerns and uncertainties about the present and the future in this pandemic. It’s a lot for anyone. And for me, an often irrationally angry pregnant lady, it’s extremely overwhelming. My feelings are all over the place, but I try to always come back to that one central thing that I know is constant and won’t ever change: the love that surrounds us. The love of God and family and friends is always there for us, and I am thankful for it every day.

The weight and darkness of the world and our year so far has been weighing on me more lately, but we received quite a bit of good news in the last couple weeks, so I’m trying to stay focused on these flickers and flashes of hope:

—My husband was allowed to accompany me to the 24 week appointment and 25 week ultrasound. We both had to wear masks, which has just become normal and no longer fazes us. The people working at the doctor’s office also seemed much more comfortable with the extra precautionary measures in place. When I was there a month ago, everyone seemed on edge. But this time, the medical professionals seemed confident that their new protective measures and screening process were working, which helped ease our anxiety a bit as well. 

—At 24 weeks, our baby boy reached the point of viability! Of course, 24 weeks is never an ideal time to deliver, and the chances of survival outside the womb increase every week from here on out. But with all the troubles we had early on, an early delivery has always been a possible necessity to get ahead of any complications. The doctors have told us that 24 weeks is good, but 28 weeks and beyond is the most ideal. We’re getting there!

—Our doctor said that my pregnancy is looking mostly “normal.” The septum in my uterus appears to be so minor that the baby has plenty of room to grow and move around, at least for now. Again, it’s something that we’ll keep an eye on, as it could be a reason for needing an early delivery at some point, but for now, all appears to be progressing just fine.

—The placenta has also moved so that it is no longer previa. I don’t even know if I ever mentioned this is any of my posts, but a couple months ago we were told I had placenta previa, which is when the placenta blocks the cervix. With the placenta blocking the cervix, a natural birth  would mean that the placenta would come out before the baby and deprive the baby of nutrients, not to mention cause other complications for the mother. Complications are usually avoided altogether by performing a C-section. But my placenta has moved out of the way completely. It’s nice to know that that is one less thing I’ll need to worry about, and it gives me hope that I may be able to have a vaginal birth after all.

—Our ultrasound showed our baby boy being as stubborn as ever. No matter how much the ultrasound tech tried to poke at him to get him to move so she could get a better angle, all he really offered were a few big kicks telling her to leave him alone. It was a new and incredible experience getting to feel those kicks at the same time I saw them! She was able to get all the measurements she needed and reported that he was measuring five days ahead of his due date. He is definitely going to be a big boy!

—We also learned that the subchorionic hematoma has completely resolved! It was such a relief to hear that. Even though everyone told us while it was happening that the bleeding we experienced early on was usually harmless to the baby, and that these things usually resolve by week 20 and after that most people go on to have a normal pregnancy, it didn’t prevent us from being anxious and traumatized as we lived through it. 

There’s been lots of good news these couple of weeks, and I’ve loved feeling our growing boy’s movements become more and more pronounced. A part of me is still anxious, because I can’t shake the memory of being told that we were “out of the woods” at 10 weeks only to wind up in the hospital three times in the next few weeks.  

It’s been a rough year, from bleeding and fearing miscarriage almost from the get-go, to months of appointments and ultrasounds and feeling sick most of the time, to multiple traumatizing ER visits, to life in a pandemic, to the stress of moving from the only home we have known together, to wondering if this pandemic will ever end. Sometimes I wonder how it might all be different, if we hadn’t had such a rough first half of this pregnancy, or if we were pregnant in a time that wasn’t a pandemic. 

What I always come back to, though, is how in our years of trying to get pregnant, we learned to have a much greater reliance on God and His perfect timing. The word that keeps coming back to me these days is Esther 4:14, “Perhaps you were born for such a time as this.” I’m starting to really believe that. Like Esther, I’m not particularly thrilled by all the circumstances of my situation, but I trust that it is all part of God’s plan and He will give me the strength to see it through. And I believe that our years-long wait for our son were because he will be born at exactly the time he is meant to be. 

Finding Joy in the Uncertainty

  We had an ultrasound last week. The reminder call informed me that I was allowed one visitor, and no children. A few hours later, they called to tell me I wasn’t allowed to have any visitors.

Knowing that this was all precautionary measure during these crazy pandemic times, I was annoyed but knew that it wouldn’t be a huge deal. It’s not like I was going to have to give birth alone (which, IMHO, is something no one should ever have to do, even during a pandemic. Just because there’s a pandemic, doesn’t mean that life is going to stop coming into the world. Again, I understand the concerns and precautionary measures and yada yada, but no one should have to go through that alone. End rant.). Still, I was irked because I don’t see my husband as a visitor. He is the father of my child and has every right to be there in that room that I do. 

When we arrived, the sign outside the building with the many offices said that each patient was allowed one visitor, so we both entered the building. The door to the office I would be going into reiterated that NO visitors were allowed. Still, it seemed perfectly allowable that he would be able to wait with me. 

Or so we thought until a receptionist stuck her head out and quite rudely said, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave the building NOW.” Which honestly seemed uncalled for, especially given the contradictory signs. So I waited alone, and I went in alone. The ultrasound tech asked if I wanted to find out the gender that day and I said, still slightly salty, “No, I’d really rather wait and find out when my husband can be here with me.”

As it turned out, the baby was also salty about their dad getting kicked out, because he/she was lounging upside down with their back to us, as if to say, “I’ll show you social distancing!” I was weirdly proud.

Everything showed up fairly normal as far as I was told. The hematoma was still there, but had shifted from a 4 cm clot to a 6 cm line. I hoped that meant it was getting ready to be reabsorbed into my body. But the baby’s heartbeat was good as always, and seemed to be growing normally, though we couldn’t see much except the very defined spine and a foot.

They told me everything looked stable, and that I should contact the doctor if I had any more bleeding, otherwise they would see me in four weeks for the anatomy scan.

It wasn’t until later that evening after watching the news and worrying about the health and safety of the whole world that the fear began to sink in. I thought back to the comment that everything looked “stable.” As in, at any moment, everything could suddenly not be stable. The hemorrhage was still there. My uterus is still a mess. At any moment, all could be lost.

I couldn’t help spiraling into the dark hole that this subchorionic hemorrhage is like a period from hell—again, it’s funny to me now that I thought pregnancy would be a vacation from my period. Haha.

With a subchorionic hemorrhage, you just never know what kind of bleeding you will have and when. At least for me, there is ALWAYS some level of it—often it’s just spotting or a very light flow. 

But then there are times when it comes heavily out of nowhere.  One minute you’re trying to decide what to eat for dinner, the next minute, your pants are soaking wet. The gushes come and you wait and wonder:  is it just going to gush for a little bit and then taper off? When will it stop? Is this the end of it all? Sometimes it does stop or slow down relatively quickly, and sometimes it keeps going until there is no question that we should go to the ER because the health of both the baby and me is at risk.

And oftentimes it’s just a random little gush here and there. But every time, you wonder:  is this the beginning of more? Is this normal? What is normal?

It’s hard to see the beauty of growing another life. It’s hard to even find real joy amid the anxiety and uncertainty.

I shared my fears with my husband and he understood but also helped me to refocus on the gift, the gratitude, the hope we have in front of us.

I felt better and turned to do my Bible study for the day. The verse that stuck out to me was from Luke 9:23, “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

Daily. Every single day. As we’ve learned during this pregnancy journey, it’s vital to take each day as it comes, to not get too ahead of ourselves, to celebrate the little victories and be grateful for each moment. It was a profoundly helpful moment for me to remember this daily surrender to the cross. Every day, I must re-take up this cross of high-risk pregnancy during a pandemic. Every day, I must take up these worries and fears and uncertainties and surrender all my expectations by embracing my situation and uniting my suffering to Jesus. And when I am too weak to carry them alongside Jesus—which I always am unless by a gift of grace—I simply surrender, express my desire to follow Him, and He picks us both up—my cross and me.

Remembering to practice this in the morning daily has helped immensely. I find that I am able to be more grateful and joyful throughout the day, rather than going through my days anxiously and then merely sighing a prayer of relieved thanks as I sink into bed.

It has definitely helped as I’ve gone back to work this past week. I only went a few days—my original plans to return as a grocery cashier were thankfully shot down by my doctor, who recommended I try to find a more isolated position with limited interactions. I’ve eased back in by doing behind the scenes work where I work alone and only occasionally have to be in any sort of close contact with others. This work situation alleviates a lot of my anxiety about working in a grocery store during a pandemic, and my renewed spiritual practice of picking up my cross daily has helped even more for me to find the beauty and joy amid the uncertainty.

I continue to be thankful for this little life, for the fact that I have work to go to these days, and again for the continued love and support from our family and friends. Know that I am here praying for the health and safety of you all during these crazy times!

Recap at 16 Weeks

To recap my last few posts:  we had three separate occasions of heavy bleeding that sent us to the ER, one which ended with an overnight stay. All were thankfully due to subchorionic hematoma/hemorrhage, which did not harm the baby (and eventually shrank significantly, hopefully meaning that it’s on its way out completely!). They were just truly terrifying, exhausting, and uncomfortable experiences where we constantly feared we might be losing the baby. 

My uterus is still a mystery—is it septate? Bicornuate? Both? Either way, will it continue to cause problems, or will things level out as the pregnancy progresses and the baby continues to grow normally? Why are there no answers?

On the bright side, every time we’ve checked in on the baby (which has been at least once a week), we have seen that little heartbeat—our flicker of hope—beating away. He or she is growing right on schedule. Generally uncooperative for snapping good pictures and always bouncing around or lounging in a weird position (definitely our kid), we have gotten to see our little nugget grow exponentially, and we are thankful for every opportunity.

It’s still a slightly terrifying experience, because we don’t know what will happen or how it will happen. But honestly, this is true in any pregnancy. There is never any guarantee. Just add in the bonuses of a really difficult first trimester and a world pandemic. The anxiety is real. 

Only time will tell what our situation is, but as we learned in our struggles to conceive, it’s all in God’s perfect (though sometimes befuddling) timing. We trust that He allowed us this Christmas miracle for a reason, and He will see us through this journey. We have hope that the worst is behind us, but even if it’s not, we know we have the love and support we need to make it through anything.

It took a lot for us to get here, but we made it to week 16. We continue to be so incredibly thankful for every minute of this little life who is the most perfect gift to us, especially after several years of struggling to get pregnant. I will continue to post on here as we have updates, so feel free to subscribe for email updates. 

Thank you again for your support!

Mayday (Part 2)

Before I begin this post, I want to reiterate the warning I offered in my last post:  if you’re squeamish at all, or if a story about extremely heavy bleeding in pregnancy that includes a threatened miscarriage might be triggering, or you don’t like to hear about blood or bodily functions, save yourself now. Trust me, I will not be offended. It’s weird enough for me to put these details out on the Internet as it is, so I understand if it’s not your cup of tea. Also, I promise a recap to follow up these three Mayday posts, without all the ugly details.

After a full day of laying on the couch watching my new favorite show, I was feeling really proud of how easy I had taken it that day. My husband had gotten home from work and we were just sitting there trying to decide what to do for dinner, when I felt it starting again. The gushing. It was doing what it had done two days ago, where it filled a pad in a matter of minutes. I called the doctor, and she told us to go to the ER closest to us.

I went to the bathroom to change pads, and this is where it began to take on the face of a crime scene. Like two days prior, I couldn’t even stand up because there was so much blood gushing. I was beginning to panic, and my husband was calmly rushing around to get things ready to go. Between his soothing, “Stay with me”s, he asked what I needed from him, what clothes I needed, and he tried to urge me to get up and get moving. I panicked because I literally couldn’t stand up for all the blood, and in my vanity I didn’t want to be seen with blood soaking through my clothes. I passed a blood clot the size of my fist,  and for a horrifying moment I thought maybe it was tissue—would the baby be next? Would this be it? Would this be the time we lost it all? My husband, bless him, examined it as well and confirmed that it just looked like a blood clot. I found it hard to believe that a clot could be that big if I wasn’t miscarrying, but I wasn’t having any real pain, and I knew that would be a key factor. I tried to focus on that. 

Eventually I pulled myself up (because my husband was about to throw a towel around me and carry me out of there, which I would NOT allow as long as I was conscious) cleaned up the best I could, and with two pairs of underwear and two pairs of pants, we headed to the ER. We had left the bathroom a total crime scene, and I couldn’t stop picturing it. I was already traumatized by all that blood and that monstrous clot, and I dreaded my husband having to clean it all up (because goodness knows I couldn’t do it). Thankfully, an angel came to our rescue that night and cleaned up the mess for us while we were in the hospital. You know who you are and I am eternally grateful!

Since we had just been through the ER drill for the same thing two days ago, we knew better what to expect. This time, though, the bleeding was much more intense and we had decided we weren’t leaving until there was an explanation for this horrific bleeding.  Because I’d been watching Gilmore Girls all day, I was feeling extra snarky and witty, cracking jokes to fill the space while waiting.

This time, I was thankfully surrounded by female doctors, but before they did an ultrasound and checked to make sure the baby was okay, they wanted to do a pelvic exam first.

This was a pelvic exam from hell. First of all, I didn’t know if my baby was okay, and every second I feared losing it. I couldn’t see what was going on, but I could feel it and it was ten minutes of torture. It took three of them working together to clear all the clots, and in the end they weren’t able to see much because there was so much blood. My husband held my hand and worked to dry the tears that were streaming into my ears. Ultimately, I don’t think they really got much information from that horrible process, except that they thought my cervix was still closed. And I came to the conclusion that if by some miracle I don’t end up needing a c-section when this baby comes, I will most definitely be getting an epidural. 

After they had cleared all that out, the bleeding slowed significantly. They rolled me out to get an ultrasound, and the tech that night was precious and balm for our war-torn souls. She seemed to know what we had just experienced, and she took every care to be respectful and gentle. We were once again amazed to see that the baby looked totally fine on the ultrasound. Their little fists were up near their face punching out, and they were kicking their legs—our little fighter!

We were informed a short while later that the ER physicians had contacted my doctor, and she had requested that I stay overnight (because I had lost so much blood, they wanted to monitor me) but at a different hospital, where she and her partners had privileges and would be around to check in the next day. I was transferred in a van while my husband went home to grab a few things we would need before meeting us at the hospital.

It was the first time for either one of us staying overnight in a hospital, so what a special treat that we got to experience it together. Of course, he can sleep anywhere, so while he gently snored on the fold-out couch, I laid awake, reliving the horrors of the evening and trying to form words to pray. Every time I was close to sleep, someone came in to check my temperature or blood pressure or take a blood sample. 

When day finally came, my doctor came in to check on us before doing her rounds. She was working in a different field that day, but she promised one of her colleagues would be in to see us. Apparently I had lost two units of blood, but my hemoglobins levels were still good though, so I wouldn’t need a transfusion.

Her colleague arrived a short while later and explained that I did appear to have another subchorionic hemorrhage, which had caused the bleeding. He said that at this point it could really go either way. He’d seen people in the same situation go on to have normal pregnancies for the remainder of the time and then perfectly healthy babies. Sometimes it doesn’t work out so well. Either way, there’s nothing to do but wait. I asked if it could happen again, and he said it was a definite possibility. He told us that bed rest does not seem to be an effective treatment, but pelvic rest and to continue to take it easy would be my best bet. 

He said a lot of other things too, about what might happen if they had to deliver early, or the specialist he would send us to if I did miscarry. To be honest, I didn’t feel great physically, so I sort of picked and chose which bits of information to hold onto. He said he would put the order in for another ultrasound to check the baby’s heartbeat before we were released.

Six long hours later, the ultrasound showed our wiggling baby hanging out upside down with a strong heartbeat, seemingly oblivious to the trauma that we’d felt in the last 24 hours. But it was another major relief, like always, to see how resilient our little baby is. 

I was given the order to stay off work for at least several days, unless I had more bleeding in the meantime. So we left the hospital completely exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically, so thankful for our caring doctors and loving family who had been surrounding us with prayers (and a few visits) the whole time. 

We felt encouraged that we had survived the harrowing experience, and felt the palpable effects of growing stronger together in this whole pregnancy experience. We had known that parenthood would be hard, but we had hoped we’d have that nine month cushion to prepare for it! 

(To be continued...)