Tres Jolie

With today being Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day I thought it would be an appropriate time to tell the story of our loss. Just a heads up that if you are a male friend, co-worker, brother or just someone that doesn’t want to hear about such words as “cycle”…………………….. Move along little doggy. Move along.

We had been trying to conceive since July 25^th, 2009 when Paul left back to New York in mid September. With barely two months of trying under our belts we weren’t too concerned with ovulation charting, tests or temps. We were just a couple of “newlyweds” trying to create life. I had started my cycle just before he left which obviously meant I wasn’t pregnant. After coming off of my birth control and never really having consistent cycles I wasn’t too surprised to see that I had been bleeding for over 10 days. Around day 17 I began to freak out. Paul was gone and there I was wondering what was going on with my body. Was this normal? Surely I wasn’t pregnant. Still to this day I don’t know what it was that caused me NOT to call my OBGYN and instead go to the store and buy a pregnancy test, but I did. I actually bought a pregnancy test and a bowl of gumbo but that’s another story.

Expecting the test to be negative (as they always were before), I took the test and went to eat my gumbo while I waited for the results. I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER forget the feeling I felt when I saw those two little pink lines. The crazy part is………. I was so incredibly excited that I never once thought of the negative possibilities. All I knew was what I wanted to know: That I, Jolie Daniels was pregnant.

I took a pic of the test and although you aren’t supposed to tell anyone until it’s confirmed, my best friend didn’t fall under that category. I sent the picture to her right away since Paul would be asleep far away for another 2 hours. I tossed out the gumbo as I was entirely too excited to eat. I must have jumped and bounced around my house by myself silently screaming for a solid 20 minutes before I got worried about the baby and sat down. I also must have called Paul’s phone a good 200 times because when he woke up and saw the missed calls he rang me in complete panic. It didn’t take all of 5 seconds before I screamed “I’M PREGNANT!!!”  I’m not sure if he believed me at first or if he was just smart enough to know that being pregnant and bleeding for 17 days wasn’t a good sign. I scheduled an appointment first thing the next morning and headed in to find out what was going on. When I first got there I took a pregnancy test and waiting in the exam room for the results. The nurse returned and immediately starting talking about what all of the possibilities were: heavy spotting during first trimester, miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy. My response: “I’m sorry, was the test positive or not?” The nurse quietly shook her head yes. This was my first sign.

I was sent up immediately to get an ultrasound. On my way out, the second nurse gave me a random hug. This was my second sign. I called Paul on the way to the ultrasound and told him what was going on. I was calm, cool and collective. I still didn’t believe that anything negative was going to come out of this. I climbed up on the table in that cold dark room with my husband a million miles away (or at least it seemed). The tech came in and started the ultra sound. There it was. A beautiful, tiny, 7 week old fetus staring right back at me. I knew it was because the nurse clicked on all four sides and labeled it PREGNANCY. This was the first time that I wasn’t excited. I just laid there in a daze while the doctor entered. He looked at the screen and a few whispers later he turned to me and said, “Unfortunately, what we know now is that you have an ectopic pregnancy in your right tube.” I was already crying at this point, I know because I could feel the tears running down my cheeks, but that was the only thing I could feel. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear this morning, I’ll give you a few minutes by yourself.”

I don’t know that there was a darker, colder, lonelier room in the world that morning. I cried, I sobbed, I tried to pull it together. The optimism that was with me just 45 minutes early a measly two stories down must have been left in the elevator on my way up- I was brutally aware now of our situation. I was monitored, poked and prodded until they told me that I was going to have to terminate the pregnancy with 2-3 doses of Methotrexate – A form of chemo therapy. My appointment was the next morning.

I arrived in tears of course after having to spend the night before telling my husband, my Mom and my best friend that my body had failed. That I was about to have to terminate the one thing I had wanted so badly. On October 15^th, 2009 I received two huge syringes filled with neon yellow chemical that was designed to kill off every living cell within my body, including that of a child’s. The next 3 weeks were horrible. I alone had to deal with the side effects of the chemo, the emotional effects of the loss and the mental effects of the process that was taking place inside of me. Thanks to the friends, family and amazing husband that I have we have healed both physically and emotionally.

The doctors cleared us to start trying again in February of this year but only if we “were ready.” We couldn’t have been more ready and still are. As most of you know we have continued to try this entire year and will do so until our blessing from God arrives. His will, His timing. The pregnancy and termination have caused me to stop ovulating and I have now finished my 2^nd round of fertility treatments. I am tired and frustrated, but I will not let it stop me. I will stay strong and carry on.

I feel for anyone that has ever had to experience any type of loss, especially that of an infant or child. I’ve said before and I’ll say it again: It comforts me to know that I’m not alone, but saddens me to know that ANYONE would ever have to feel such pain.

Just because we never met you doesn’t mean we didn’t love you.