It’s Not Over

To this day, I still can’t really describe the devastation I felt on that day. I’d hoped so badly our pregnancy wouldn’t be defined by the havoc of our issues – that they might be temporary. But on this day, I lost all hope that things could return to normal.

It's Not Over

5.1.17

“This is why I refused to believe the bleeding could be done this time. After 11 days, I lost blood last night. I don’t even have the words to talk about it.”

The three short sentences above were the only three I wrote in my journal on May 1. To this day, I still can’t really describe the devastation I felt on that day. I’d hoped so badly our pregnancy wouldn’t be defined by the havoc of our issues – that they might be temporary. But on this day, I lost all hope that things could return to normal. On this day, I knew it was only downhill from here. On this day, I sank into a pit – the pit I’d pull myself out of for each visitor I’d have going forward, slapping on a smile and claiming I still had hope things could return to normal.

Things were not going to return to normal. You don’t go 11 days without blood loss and relapse just once. If it’s coming back, it’s back.

So now we looked toward the 20 week ultrasound, the one ultrasound I thought I’d have in my entire pregnancy. We would find out the gender of our baby and if there were any changes on the inside for the good.

But until then, I continued to rely on beautiful weather to get out of the house. My “bed-ridden” self would walk down the stairs in the morning, to and from the bathroom and, if the weather was nice, out to our patio table where I’d work.

Never have I taken in the nature of our backyard so deeply.

There was a momma mourning dove protecting her eggs in the crook of the tree next to our patio table. She and I seemed to have an understanding of each other last spring/summer, each trying to do the best for our unborn child(ren). There were butterflies frequenting the milkweed in our backyard. And once, there was a squirrel napping in the sun on a tree branch.

We don’t have this gloriously beautiful backyard, but last year, a year where we were so limited, being outside was beautiful.

In the stats: 
Gestational Age: 19 weeks, 2 days
Days of blood: 14
Days of bedrest: 26
Doctor’s Appointments: 5
Ultrasounds: 2

P.S. Friends, this is the last pregnancy-related post before the March for Babies walk on Saturday. Please consider making a donation if you haven’t done so already. We’ve far surpassed our initial goal of $1000, and we’re immensely blown away and blessed to be able to give almost $3000 to such an amazing organization. We’re $327 away. Could you make even a donation of $6.90 – a dime for each day Oaklee spent in the NICU? 

Every donation helps expand programs and educate medical professionals to make sure moms like me and babies like Oaklee get the best possible care. Your donation is funding research to find solutions to the biggest health threats and supporting moms through every stage of the pregnancy journey, especially when things don’t go as planned. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your consideration.

Sponsor/Join Oaklee's March of Dimes team.