Eighty days…
Today I’m sharing chapter three with you. Though it is short, it marks the beginning of a tumultuous fifteen-year journey. It also unlocks the floodgates of fear…
(Chapter Three)
Second Pregnancy
When my son was seven months old, I discovered I was pregnant again. This was my one and only “accident.” I remember physically feeling fine, but I missed my period. In those days I had very regular periods, so this was a “tip off” that something was going on.
It was now July of 1993. Our son, Pauly, was exhibiting all the adorable little behaviors that babies of that age do; we were overjoyed with him. I was not working anymore. Due to becoming so ill during my pregnancy with Pauly, I had to quit my job. My husband was still both working and going to school.
Even though we struggled financially, and my husband was extremely busy, I have a smile on my face right now as I think about what a joyful and simple time it was. We hadn’t really had any of life’s disturbances to cloud our vision and bring us down… yet.
When the pregnancy test result read positive, I was incredibly excited. I knew that, financially, things would be more difficult, but none of that mattered to me or to Paul. We were going to have a new baby and a sibling for our son. I was a step closer to accomplishing my dream of having the family I had always desired.
The same day I received the positive pregnancy result was the day I happened to be leaving on a cross country road trip. My in-laws were moving from Pennsylvania, where we all lived, to California. My mother-in-law asked me to drive with her cross country and stay for a couple of weeks. Paul had to work, so he could not go, but Pauly and I did. We were only there a few days when I started to have some spotting.
I have to say that at first, I just kept telling myself the spotting meant nothing, and it would go away. It did not go away. It was not long after until the spotting turned to a heavier bleed much like a period.
When I returned home to Pennsylvania a couple days later, I called my doctor. The bleeding had slowed to a spotting by then, but after an examination the doctor decided I needed a D&C.
A dilatation and curettage is a surgical procedure done during a first trimester miscarriage. Dilatation means to open up, and curettage means to clean out the contents of the uterus.
This was a simple procedure, and I was assured by the doctor that miscarriage is very common, and I should not worry.
I remember feeling for lack of a better description “dazed” by the miscarriage. I must admit that deep down I knew something wasn’t right. I was not sick like I had been from the beginning of my previous pregnancy, although I rationalized this with the fact that all pregnancies are different. When all was said and done, I felt a pang of loneliness coming from somewhere deep within.
As you will soon learn, I dealt with an amazing amount of loss in my pursuit of another child. Still, I will say this, it does not matter if you have had one miscarriage or several. This kind of loss is difficult. It feels as if you were robbed, except what you lost can never be replaced. Another child will not fill the void the other little life left behind. If you have had many losses, it is important that you still feel compassion for the woman who has “only” suffered one loss and has the ability to become pregnant again whenever she chooses. Do not grow callous. Do not look for company in your own misery. After all, that word “only” I used a few sentences ago can be hurtful and misrepresenting. One loss is one too many. It can devastate your being and disrupt the certainty you felt in life.
