Today is the anniversary of my third miscarriage. It was a very difficult day last year, not just because of the loss, but because it was my third loss and it was Christmastime. It was the beginning of my life as a “recurrent miscarrier.” Going forward my life was changed forever. I have gone on to lose three more. I remember bleeding so heavily that day and feeling faint but going to buy a Christmas tree on my own and bringing it home by train. I could barely carry the stupid thing, let alone fit it in the train carriage, but I was determined to get it home. I guess I needed that sense of warmth, that feeling of comfort. I wasn’t coping. I sobbed as I put up the decorations.
I think I will forever hate Christmas as long as I have no children because of that day.
This year we have rejected Christmas completely. We have no tree, no decorations, bought no gifts for anyone or ourselves. We have no family here so we will be on our own. We won’t be doing any Christmas dinner or parties and have cancelled our plans to go to friends for a few days. Quality alone time is what we need. We plan to spend the whole time on the couch watching films, not Christmas films, but funny films, and ignoring the whole event. I’ve already got Blades of Glory, Anchorman and Zoolander all cued up.
And today I find myself, unbelievably, in the precarious position of being pregnant for the seventh time. Yes I only miscarried last cycle. This has happened before. I have been able to get pregnant four cycles in a row in the past but lose each and every one of them.
I took a cheap HPT on 10dpo because I was feeling some pretty strong symptoms. When I looked at it after a few minutes there was a spider sitting directly on top of the spot where a second line should be. I freaked out. Talk about bad omen! So of course I squished it, ruining any opportunity to see a second line and swore I would never test again because it would be doomed anyway. DH thought it was a good omen and convinced me to test again the next day.
No spider this time but two double lines. Strong double lines. Then a positive digital test.
That was 11dpo, and technically within the normal timeframe for a BFP. I have never had a BFP in my life before 15dpo and they have always been faint. Late implantation equals miscarriage for me. Period.
But this time I had two strong double lines at 11dpo! I still can’t believe it. My period isn’t even due for a few days. I even had an implantation dip in my BBT followed two days later by really strong symptoms. And now my telltale abdominal hum has confirmed for me this is really happening again.
I’m not about to get ahead of myself here. I know how likely it is that we could lose this one too. There is too much wrong with me that getting this right is a long long shot. But something in me feels Ok. Content. At peace. I can only take one step at a time.
I was reluctant to come clean about this though. I have debated for a few days whether to even post about it. I live in fear of jinxing it but I am also finding myself almost apologetic for this warped ability to get knocked up quickly but not be able to follow through. Like I’m wasting life. Like my body is a death trap for these little humans. Like I’m irresponsible. That it’s my fault. I could be wasting another life right now. Infertility and RPL strikes the psyche in horrible random ways.
I also feel particularly awful that many of my fellow RPL and infertility bloggers are in the throws of horrific losses, pregnancy purgatory, in agonising holding patterns or suffering another disappointment right now. And it reminds me of the grief that overcame me only one month ago. I feel these losses, these disappointments as my own, making this pregnancy even more surreal. I don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or sad and I know all too well the mixed emotions that come with this kind of news.
I hate recurrent loss. I hate infertility. I hate the uncertainty, the anxiety, the dread of something we want so much. Why is this so hard?
So I guard my faith today. I will remain cautiously optimistic but conscious of the possibilities. Whatever happens will happen. There is nothing I can do but wait to find out. Please help me keep some hope.