Our Third Pregnancy

After our second loss, we again had an off cycle where we didn’t conceive. I was honestly mostly relieved because the thought of ever going through another loss was too much, and I struggled to imagine a pregnancy that didn’t end in one. I was also now on medication from ovulation until either negative test or 14 weeks of pregnancy, and I was happy to get to stop it for a bit. Fun experience, the first day I took all the medication, my entire body started burning and turned bright red. I was in an uber to A&E before the clinic called me back and confirmed it was totally normal and okay. It continued to happen every day for the next 6 weeks!

The next cycle I tested really early, mostly to reassure myself I wasn’t pregnant, and got a negative. I was again mostly relieved, even though I was desperate to be done with the trying. The issue wasn’t that I needed to be pregnant right then, it was that I really struggled to believe I would ever get pregnant with one that stuck. And living with that fear was a lot.

A few days later I wanted to stop the medication but realised I should test one more time to be completely sure. I took a test and put it down next to me and somehow forgot about it. I started working and then like 10 minutes later glanced down and saw a pretty clear positive. I immediately burst into tears and started panicking. I called my mom sobbing about how I couldn’t do this again and wished we had taken a break from trying to give me more time to get strong enough to go through another loss. It wasn’t a nice experience – comparing that to the innocent tears of happiness the first time is a terrible bookends. Gareth came home and I showed him the test still crying. He somehow had it in him to feel the joy of it and he kissed my stomach and said if it did stick he wanted to have enjoyed every second of it, which was so sweet and I remember thinking he was a naive idiot because of course it wouldn’t and having that kind of hope was so dangerous.

I called the clinic and they had me go in the next day for an HCG test. It came back at 7.4 – barely in the inconclusive category and definitely not positive. They told me if I’d already had a positive test at home  the day before it was likely dropping, and this was not a viable pregnancy. They asked me to come back in four days for a repeat test so they could confirm it had passed appropriately.

This was the lowest point I had during this process. I immediately told work I had to take the rest of the week off, and basically collapsed into grief. I felt like I wasn’t mourning the three losses, but the idea I’d ever be able to maintain a pregnancy. I started envisioning a future where I never got to carry our baby, or the expensive of treatments. And what’s terrifying is there’s so little that can be done for recurrent loss other than to just keep trying. I was scared of what trying again after three losses would be like mentally – definitely not good. I used to not understand couples who “gave up” trying, but now I really do. It’s just too heartbreaking.

I asked if I could go back in 48 hours instead of the four days, and they agreed. There was risk that it was ectopic which was scary and stressful and I just wanted it was over so I could stop thinking about it. I went in two days later, trying so hard to keep it together on the tube ride in but mostly tearing up excessively behind my mask. That came back at 23 HCG. So rising, even doubling (tripling!) but way too low. They told me it still wasn’t viable but I was showing increasing indicators for an ectopic pregnancy. They had me go back two days later and my HCG was at 103. This had quadrupled and at this point they said it could be ectopic but there was a possibility it could be a viable pregnancy. After I hung up the phone I collapsed in tears. It sounds dramatic but the sliver of hope was just too much. I was happy and relieved and so, so, so terrified. I felt like I’d been living in a world where having a baby went from impossible ever to possibly happening right now. It was a lot.

Looking back, I don’t remember much about those early few weeks. The amount of stress I felt living in limbo was high – and I had emotional whiplash from being told it was definitely a loss, feeling hopeless about ever maintaining a pregnancy after what I thought were three consecutive losses, and then being told there could be a reprieve from what felt like a living nightmare. Four days after my last test, around 5 weeks, they had me in for a scan and another hcg test. The HCG was around 900 and though they warned me they’d likely see nothing, they wanted to do a scan to try to catch an ectopic as early as possible.

The tech was amazing, she was so hopeful for me and was VERY excited to show me a tiny gestational sac in my uterus! This was a great first step but didn’t necessarily indicate a viable pregnancy or even rule out an ectopic. Then she zoomed all the way in and said it was too small to be certain but she was pretty sure she saw the start of a yolk sac, which DID rule out ectopic and was much more promising for a viable pregnancy.

teeny potential yolk sac

All of this resulted in the baby I’m currently pregnant with, whom we are very much hoping we’ll get to bring home in late July/early August. I’m going to do a separate post about my first trimester later, but we’re just over 18 weeks at this point and so far everything looks good and low risk.

Thinking back about this time is still really hard. I hated everything about trying to conceive from the moment we lost our first pregnancy. I hated the lead up to ovulation, because I was trying so hard to time intercourse right and I didn’t ovulate consistently, so had to monitor everything so closely. I hated the two week wait because I couldn’t help but symptom spot. I hated the wait between a negative test or a drop in my temp and my period starting, because those days felt like wasted time. I hated the pressure I felt to get back on track and just be pregnant again. I felt like I had no headspace at all away from the whole process. Mostly I hated having no idea when it all would end, if it would be months, years, if it would just be those two losses, or many more. Looking back 8 cycles isn’t long at all, and if I had known that from the start it would have been so much easier. Even the two losses would have been awful but if someone could have promised me a baby (not that I’m there yet) with minimal additional heartbreak, I could have handled them better. The unknown killed me. Other people probably handle it better than I did but it was a season of life I really did not enjoy.

There is so much more to say here – how hard to was to watch other people get and stay pregnant when I couldn’t, the resentment and guilt and anger and hurt and loneliness. It is so hard. The only thing that got me through was Gareth, who basically single handedly kept our lives together, listened to me worry about the same things every single day, and did anything and everything I asked him to do to improve our chances, no matter how little actual science backed it up. He was amazing and I am so glad he is my partner. To anyone still trying, my heart is with you. It is an ugly season of life and everyone fighting for their family is a warrior.