I found out I was pregnant with my third shortly before our family trip to Lebanon. We had booked the trip so far in advance that the news caught us by surprise. But after consulting with my OB, we were given the green light to go. Just watch out for clots, he recommended. And, watch out I did. I moved about that plane as much as I could and only sat down when I had to. We made it to Lebanon safely and I guarded my secret well, for fear of sharing too much too soon. But on the last day of the trip, a wardrobe choice gave it away. I was all too happy to share the news, but worried at the same time. What if this pregnancy had the same fate as the one before it? I did not know it at the time, but it did.
The first order of business when we returned home was to head to the OB and check on the baby. My 12 week ultrasound was not for another couple of weeks but I did not want to wait that long. For what it’s worth the visit to the doctor loaded me with good news. But a few days after my mother instinct told me something was not right. I felt like I was not “growing.” I was not gaining weight. I did not “feel” pregnant. I brought it up with Jeff and a few close friends. Everyone reassured me that everything was fine and that I was just being a typical mom who is concerned about the wellbeing of her children. Unfortunately, they were wrong and I was right.
Jeff’s mom happened to be visiting us at the time we were cast the dice. She had come with a gift to JR that I had commissioned; a “I am a Big Sister” onesie. I had carefully selected the garment, the color, the font, the wording, the location of the wording and was looking forward to JR flaunting it that Monday afternoon at the park. A day earlier we were invited to a barbeque gathering at our friend’s house and I was struggling with keeping the news a secret. But I kept telling myself to hold on for one more day, just one more day and I can tell the world. I had even received the pregnancy announcement postcards in the mail that same week, but something had told me to hold off on addressing and stamping them. I felt like it would be bad karma to do much beyond designing and ordering them. As life would have it, just doing the latter proved to be bad karma. As it turned out, JR would not get to wear that shirt and the postcards and the stamps would remain in a box along with the early ultrasound pictures of what would have been our second child from the third pregnancy.
|the day before the news|
And so it was, that Monday turned into Tuesday then Wednesday and before you know it I was being wheeled again into the Operating Room for a second D&C. We could have waited to see if my body would deal with the miscarriage naturally but we decided that since it had not done so in 3 weeks, waiting another would not make sense, and so we chose to have a human help us with that. And, the rosary continued unraveling. A routine D&C turned into a dark nightmare...