Saturday, June 18, 2016


{Trigger warning for those who have had a pregnancy loss/miscarriage}
This has been heavily on my heart and mind lately, so please bear with me as I express myself. I've been seeing lots of supportive things for women who have miscarried and/or have PCOS, so I really felt compelled to write this down. If nothing else, this is a reminder to me that it's ok to still grieve no matter how many years have passed.

June 19th is a hard day for me.

I don't mention this every year, but it's something that comes up every single year.

It's sad that it happens to be on Father's Day this year because I knew I'd have to mentally prepare for several days beforehand. I want to focus on the positive. I want to celebrate my husband. It's just hard to do knowing we could have been celebrating him as a father much earlier.

I have Timehop on my phone, which is usually super fun/great. However, starting on the 15th, it began to remind me of 2009.

Now 2009 was the year where I had an early miscarriage. So early, in fact, that I hadn't even called my doctor yet. For the first time in my reproductive life, my period was late. Not just by a day or two, but close to 4. Then it was 5. Then 6. By day 7, I was determined to figure out why my period was still not here. But before I even bought a pregnancy test, it happened. I remember going to the restroom and wiping with lots of fresh red blood. I was disappointed with the answer I got for my mental question, but I knew there was nothing I could do. Shortly thereafter, I had the most painful start of a period I've ever had, {up until that point at least}. It got to the point where I had to sit in the shower with the shower running to get any kind of relief from the pain. It was really awful. Even with the other health issues I've had, {including chemical pregnancies and cysts draining}, I've never experienced that kind of sensation before. That's when I knew; I knew that I had miscarried. I didn't tell many people, and I don't even remember if I told my mom about it before it happened. This was June 19, 2009.

It is a date forever etched in my mind.

A few months later, I was 7 days late again, so I immediately called my doctor. I knew I couldn't mentally/emotionally handle another miscarriage. My cycles had been completely out of whack after what happened in June. Well, this time, it turned out to just be a late period. Even after it finally started, my period was not as painful as it was on June 19th. That's when the ball got rolling with various doctor appointments, and I was eventually diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) on November 10, 2009.

However, the specialist that diagnosed me wanted to know more. Being curious myself, {because trust me, there was NOT a lot of great info on PCOS in 2009}, I went along with it. By February of 2010, we had seen this doctor for a few cycles where I had done bloodwork, ultrasounds, temperature charts, etc. I was to the point where he wanted to do a certain test, {I believe it was this one}, and the results would tell him if I could ever have children on my own or not, {according to him}. Being almost 24 years old, I knew I was not ready to hear the answer either way. I wanted to stop immediately. So we never made another appointment with the doctor, and paid off what costs we had accumulated until that point. Even without that test, we were told that, based off my other lab work and such, that conceiving a child would be very difficult. In fact, I think the doctor even implied I would need at least IUI to conceive and carry a baby at all without the results of the test. So, Phil and I decided that I would stop taking birth control because of my PCOS, {whacky hormones}, and just be careful until after we were both done with school. We had no sense of hope that we would conceive without major medical intervention.

A few months later, I was cleaning the apartment. It was a beautiful Saturday, but Phil was working at the pharmacy. I decided to be a good housewife, and surprise him with a nice, clean apartment when he returned for dinner. Being the Aries that I am, I got distracted from my work a few times. One of those times, I needed to use the bathroom. As I walked up the stairs to our bathroom, I was suddenly remembering that I had 1 pregnancy test left in the box from all those cycles months earlier. Thinking it was close to its expiration date, {it wasn't}, I decided to use it, even though I knew it would be negative, {it wasn't}. I still have no earthly clue what possessed me to do this, but I am grateful simply because if the ectopic was not discovered, I could have had a medical emergency on my hands. I remember looking at the test thinking that I would confirm the negative result and toss it in the trash in one swift motion. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw a second line on the test. I texted some friends of mine, who rushed me to Walgreens for a digital test. It said the exact same thing! This was June 19, 2010.

Of course, as the story goes, after several blood tests, it was confirmed that I did not have a viable pregnancy that turned out to be ectopic. I had to have 2 rounds of methotrexate to chemically dissolve the pregnancy. I still can't hear the word "viable" without hearing the nurse calling my pregnancy "non-viable" over the phone. It haunts me.

I kind of hate that both of these events are tied together. The fact that they share the date June 19th, makes this day that much harder for me. February is a crappy month for me too since that would have been my due dates, {February 12, 2010, and February 19, 2011 respectively}, but June 19th is harder for me than February ever is.

The memories of the physical pain are still there.

The memories of the mental pain are still there.

The memories of the emotional pain are still there.

PCOS sucks. Infertility sucks. Losing babies no matter how far along you are sucks. Losing children no matter how old they are sucks.

Sometimes this world sucks.

It is broken. It is hurtful. It haunts you. It makes you want to stay in your bed all day and cry.

Honestly, that is all perfectly normal. Cry all day. Scream. Throw things. Burn something, (in a controlled environment). Flip the bird with both hands. Write a poem. Write an angry letter. Write a blog post. Whatever it takes, let yourself feel it. If you have to do it every year like I do, that's ok too!

Even if I have 20 more children, {Lord have mercy, that is NOT the plan FYI}, I will always have a hard time on June 19th. Whether I'm on a mission trip, in the middle of VBS, on vacation, or one of my kids gets married that day, I will always feel it.

To be completely honest, I usually start realizing it's coming around June 10th. It's like a cloud that it coming right at me. I know it's coming, and I know I can't stop it. I don't let it keep me from doing my job as a wife, mother, friend, sister, church goer, etc. Just know, if you ever see me on June 19th, I will be facing a tough battle.

Whatever date is hard for you, whatever memories haunt you, know that you're not alone.

As much as I'll celebrate Phil tomorrow, I will be so happy to see the sunrise come June 20th.

1 comment:

  1. Hey grasshopper, I stumbled onto your blog when my sister convinced me to get on the Instagram train. I'm sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your powerful story.


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