**(This post is dedicated to my beautiful husband Sean. I'm ALL in, for life and beyond).
About two weeks ago I peed on a stick and the two pink lines showed up which means I am pregnant (yet again). This is number 5 in just seven months. The news was a complete surprise as I was looking forward to giving my body a little break after suffering four consecutive losses. The news landed just a couple of days before my highly anticipated appointment with the recurrent miscarriage clinic at the Mercy Hospital here in Melbourne.
They took between 12-14 vials of blood and ran all of the tests under the sun to figure out what my malfunction is. I was also prescribed progesterone pessaries (oh boy, too much information!).
A few days went by and I started to bleed and cramp, paired with all of the usual suspects associated with an impending loss. And as you could imagine my mind is racing at a million miles an hour thinking that this can't be a good sign.
Sean and I were in the ER for most of Monday. My HCG levels had risen in 11 days and I was given the all clear by the doctor that there was nothing ‘wrong' with my tests and all of my losses were due to ‘inconclusive reasons'. I was then told to go to level 3 for an internal ultrasound to see if they could see what's going on.
At this stage I am (roughly) 5 weeks maybe 6, so it's super early. The room goes dark and the technician looks at my kidneys, my liver and tells me my uterus is in superb condition to be able to carry a baby to term.
They see a tiny sac and yolk sac, but no fetal pole. The doctor and the technician can't say either way whether it will work out or not, it could go either way. This was not very reassuring.
Sean and I then had to go back downstairs to wait in the ER for the doctor to fully explain the results.
“It doesn't look good. You have quite a ‘big bleed' in there and it's likely you will lose this pregnancy. You've just had a horrible run of BAD LUCK.”
So it wasn't a no and it wasn't a resounding yes. Here we go again into the land of limbo.
Holy fuck. Bad luck? Really? My eyes were stinging with the news as I was trying to hold back a tsunami of tears.
Not again. Please God, not again.
I was being prepared for the worst and yet my mind still wants to question the accuracy of the diagnosis and hold hope.
There is a chance that this little life could pull through and grow. I have to wait until Tuesday to see what's going on. There are thousands of ‘success stories' out there from women who were wrongly diagnosed.
Am I scared? Am I sad? Yes. Am I brave, hopeful and trying my best to keep this in perspective and pray my arse off for a miracle to happen? Youbetcha.
This process has been such a wonderful training ground to bring it back to what's most important in life…your mental, physical and spiritual health.
Mental health is a serious issue and if I'm 100% transparent here, my self-worth has taken a huge bashing over the last 8 months. I feel like I have been on a fierce training ground to cultivate compassion within myself, to see the love and commitment that my husband and I share, to cherish each day as a gift that I can stay pregnant and to take everything moment by moment and turn it into a milestone to celebrate.
My dearest mentor reminds me that being comfortable with the idea that it's not going to work out this time, or maybe it will will be a powerful and important element to moving forward and accepting change. Everything changes, all the bloody time. It's a constant force churning the cogs of humanity. Uncertainty is something we all have to face in our lives. It totally sucks, but the awareness that life is taking us on a wild ride helps immensely.
I can't wrap a threatened miscarriage up in a pretty personal development bow and make it seem fun and educational because it's one of the most anxiety-ridden experiences I have ever had. But what this effed-up, scary time is teaching me is that beautiful acts of compassion are everywhere. I'm learning and growing through the connection and amazing women and their wisdom that has emerged from the energetic ashes of my loss.
Being pregnant is a powerful teacher that we are always ‘expecting' whether we're knocked-up or not – that life expands, changes who we are, and gets us to newfound levels of beautiful awareness.
I promise to write an update as soon as I can. In the meantime, positive energy and prayers would be greatly appreciated.