Last Tuesday, it was really foggy. I couldn't even see far enough to navigate in my own neighborhood. The neighborhood that I drive in every day, at least twice a day. Fog is strange. It sort of, suspends you in time, space. You can't see in front of you and you can't or are too scared to look back. You are stuck in the present and just have to hope that you don't make the wrong move.
It feels foggy again today, for the third day in a row. This weekend has been a blur. I don't even know where to start. Everything was going fine. Almost 4 weeks ago, a day before my husband's birthday, we found out we were expecting again. Happy early birthday hubby! We were thrilled. The Chinese gender chart said we were going to have a boy. It's never wrong, we started preparing ourselves for having two boys and expanding our family. We had told a few people but neither of us seemed as scared to share the news as we were the first time, as I was the first time.
The pain started shortly after I found out, but it wasn't terrible. I could take something and get along with my day. I was much more tired this time around, but I was also running after a 10 month old now. This past Friday, early morning, I woke up to severe cramping and started bleeding shortly after. I immediately feared the worst and started counting down the minutes until my doctor's office would open. I couldn't stop crying. Is this really happening? I'm a statistic now. What did I do wrong? Is it because I had been traveling so much? Because I had been taking medication for the pain? The questions never stopped, they still don't.
Once I got to the doctor, my worst fear was confirmed when the tech performed the ultrasound. There is no baby. The tech was very calm and apologized. She gave me some tissues and had me get dressed and wait for my doctor, who was in surgery with another patient. I was alone. I came to the office by myself so that I could react the way that I felt I needed to and not worry about anyone else and hiding my true response. The sadness was overwhelming but I was trying to keep it together. Shortly, my husband was on his way and so was my mom.
When the doctor came in, the appointment took a quick turn. During the ultrasound they couldn't find my left ovary due to a large mass and it needed to be removed immediately. I had to have emergency surgery, like now. My gears quickly shifted and there were many other possibilities of what could happen; I was having an ectopic pregnancy, my fallopian tube had to be removed, my ovary had to be removed, I had a large blood filled cyst, I had a miscarriage. The fog was descending. What the hell is happening? My body was betraying me. "That would explain the pain," the doctor said. The cyst had to be removed and she would also explore why there was no sac, no baby. I had either already "passed" him or he was in the wrong place.
After the surgery, I was told that the cyst was the size of an orange and probably was taking all the hormones and nutrients that the embryo needed to survive. We are still waiting on the pathology to find out what exactly happened but we do know that I didn't have an ectopic pregnancy and they didn't need to remove anything other than the cyst. This is a relief but it doesn't change the fact that I'm not pregnant anymore. Our family isn't growing at this time.
Last night, the sadness started coming back. Due to my surgery, it hurt to cry. It doesn't today. I know it could have been a lot worse, I could have been farther along. I was 7 weeks and 5 days to be exact. For now, I'm just trying to get through, be pleasant and not angry. Mostly, I'm just sad. Random things remind me of the loss. We had already been talking about names and how our lives were going to change. Now, it's just gone. Suddenly, just like that. Writing helps but I know it's not going to make it disappear.
I'll just keep waiting for the sun to come out each day and burn off the fog. The sun has a name, and he's the sweetest little boy I've ever met. He turns 1 year in exactly 25 days.
