Part 1/3

I have been thinking about this post for quite some time. Typed it out and deleted it. Being this open is typically not my style, and yes I know that's the whole purpose of a blog, but me being me...I tend to shy away from anything that reveals too much of myself.

I will start this off by saying, I have no intentions with sharing this. I am not looking for you to feel bad for me.  I am not looking for advice. If we share the same story, than this will show you, that you are not alone.  I want to get it out on "paper" only, because writing has always been therapeutic for me.

It is probably best to break this out in a few different stories, as I want to capture the details, but not bore everyone to death.  I am not looking for you to feel bad for me.

Alright...enough drama for your mama..

I had a miscarriage.  Three in fact.  I am 28, relatively healthy, never had issues getting pregnant with my son, have always had regular periods....but I have had three miscarriages.

The first one was June, 2013.  I had a test leftover, and hadn't been feeling myself lately, so I took the test...and HOLY SHIT it was positive.  YES! I couldn't believe it!  Patrick and I were so happy.  We both walked around with big dumb grins on our faces, we hadn't expected it to happen that fast.

Let me tell you this...you really find out how much alcohol is involved in your everyday life, just like that, you can't have any.  :)

We had plans for dinner that night with some of our family, and of course a few glasses of wine or beers would be had.  It was summer for christ sake! Also, were going to be with family all weekend, and  rumors would start flying if I wasn't tossing back beers with all the cousins.  So Patrick and I started scheming.  We told only our closest family, not even parents, that night, as we were excited and wanted to get it off our chests to at least one person.  If you know Patrick and I, you know we can't keep secrets to save our lives.  We had decided we would tell his parents that weekend, but Pat would be "mixing" my drinks all weekend, so no one else would catch on.

By the end of the weekend, both of his parents knew, and close family.  I was going to wait to tell my parents until we could get up north to visit.  His dad and step-mom cried, they love being grandparents.  His mom and step-dad gave us huge hugs, they were elated.  Other family members, started asking questions about due dates, did we want a boy/girl...all the typical things you ask someone.  Pat and I still could not wipe the dopey grins off of our faces.

The next week of work crawled by...we had no plans for the upcoming weekend, so there wasn't much too look forward to.  We had dinner with some friends, and shared the news with them.  Mind you, I was only 4.5 weeks along at this point, very, very early.  The weekend passed with no excitement.

Monday came and went....than Monday night I went to the bathroom and noticed I was lightly spotting.  Didn't think much of it, but as all smart phone users do, I googled it.  Most posts said it was normal, but of course the only one I paid attention to were the ones with the terrifying news...miscarriage.  

The next morning, I was bleeding pretty heavy.  At this point, I went into robot mode and finished getting ready for work.  If I don't think about it, it will go away.  Pat left for work, before he left he told me to get to the doctor.  He reassured me everything was fine, just to get checked out.   I dropped Hunter off at daycare, and headed to work. I called the doctor on my way in, and made an appointment for later that morning.  When I hung up the phone, I realized I was shaking.  I was about 10 minutes from work, when I lost it.  Bawling. Big, ugly, heaving, sobs.  Mascara everywhere.  I could not go to work.  Everything I had pushed out of my mind, had come back in the form of a Mack truck driving 100mph.

I work with mostly men, and was horrified to call my boss and tell him what was going on.  So I called one of the women I work with, and through my sobs told her I was having a miscarriage, and would not be into work.  She handled it in the exact way I needed, "Danielle, go take care of yourself.  I will handle everything here."

I got to the doctors office, and was told what I already knew.  There wasn't anything they could do.  The doctor put a cold hand on my knee, and told me not to worry, this is very common.  "Happens more often than you think. Stay home for a couple days, the bleeding and cramps are going to get worse."  Great.

So I drove home, and returned one of Patrick's many calls.  I told him everything, and how he understood anything I was saying through the sounds that had replaced my normal voice...I have no idea.  I went home to lay on the couch, and try to sleep.  He met me there, with chinese food he bought for lunch. While I slept on the couch, he laid on the floor next to me, holding my hand.  The gesture was so small, yet so powerful.

I went back to work the next day.   My mind was too restless to relax anyways.  Nobody knew, nobody asked.  I had to sit through countless meetings about revenue, new customers, etc. Typical business bullshit.  All I could think in my head was...miscarriage, miscarriage, miscarriage, over and over again.  When asked to do something or my opinion on something, it took everything I could do to keep my mouth shut.  I wanted to scream, "Who gives a F**K.   I could care less about this, and all of you here.  This is not LIFE."  That anger is still with me.

We looped back around to everyone we told, and shared the news.  Some shared their sympathies, and were very supportive.  Others said nothing. I will speak more to this later.

The days eventually turned into weeks, and that pain lessened.  The broken feeling, faded.  The busy days of summer kept my mind occupied.  One thing that never changed was my husband.  He made me move forward, "This is a total freak thing Danielle, do not get caught up in it.  We will get pregnant again."

And we did....that is part two.