January 8,2008 was a day that I will probably remember forever, if not the date, certainly the feelings. 365 days ago, I began an unimaginable journey.
The morning began like any other. Terry had worked a night shift before and so that he could watch the kids and still get some sleep later that day, I had an early prenatal appointment at one of the branch offices close to home.
This was my third and final pregnancy and already I knew it was different that my previous two. I wasn't having much morning sickness and what I did have seemed more like um, sinus drainage issues. Nothing like the 24 hour stuff that ruled my life for 3 weeks that I was expecting. Ignoring the little twinges of "something wasn't right", I was happy that the toilet wasn't my best friend this go round. But those twinges wouldn't be ignored for long, as my second appointment turned out to be what I least expected.
As soon as the doctor put the Doppler on my stomach to listen for the heart beat, I knew something was wrong. And for what seemed like the next 5 minutes, he search for a heartbeat. None. He tried to comfort me with the fact that the baby was probably just behind my pubic bone, hiding, but I think we both knew it was a lie.
It would be. The first ultrasound put the baby at a day or two short of eight weeks. Determining that the baby had died two days or so after the first ultrasound where I had seen and heard the heart beat myself. So for the last three to four weeks, my baby had been dead and I didn't know it. Somehow that seems so wrong.
The next day, January 9 would begin the first of countless blood draws to come. And in accordance with my doctors advice, I chose not to have a D and C done right away. It would be two weeks later before we decided on the D and C. My body wasn't miscarrying on its own and I count that as a blessing. During that same visit, because of my unusual high hcG, that I believe to have been in the 300,000 range, I was sent for another ultrasound to confirm fetal demise. The thoughts that ran through my head were numerous, as were the prayers. Prayers for God's Will to be done.
I won't and can't blame my doctor for my baby being in my body for close to six weeks after its death, because he can't predict the future. Could a D and C done earlier have prevented the cancer? Maybe, maybe not, we'll never know.
Twenty days to the day I learned of my miscarriage and asked the age old question, "Why?", I received a D and C. A week later, I had an answer. An answer that would turn my life upside down.
Fetal demise was due to Partial Molar Pregnancy.
As I sit here, going over what happened a year ago, many emotions run through me. Sadness and heart break for the baby I'll never know on earth. Triumph and elation for fighting a disease that comes straight from the pits of Hell and winning. Anger at the Devil for turning something so pure and innocent into something that I feared. Thankfulness, for God and His Son Jesus, for their undying love and unseen hands that carry us through life. Emotions that are all wrapped into one ball and can't be unraveled, just like the events that have led me to this day.
Today is January 8,2009 and I am a daughter, sister, wife, mother, miscarriage and cancer survivor rolled into one. I am a fighter.
