This began as more of a memoir of the 2009/2010 winter than an as-it’s-happening blog. When I was seventeen weeks pregnant, I had a rare and life-threatening complication. When it was over, I couldn’t find anyone else who had gone through what I went through. I’m writing this so that maybe someone going through the same thing will find it and not feel so alone.
I hemorrhaged at seventeen weeks. I did not go into labor. I did not have a miscarriage. Everything was fine, except for the bleeding. After a few days, I started to bleed again, and this time the pregnancy had to be terminated to save my life.
I stayed home for months recovering from the surgery, the hospital stay, and the psychological trauma. Then I went back to work, and it was OK. It felt good to be working again, to be around people, to have other things to think about.
When I got pregnant again, I wasn’t even scared. I was happy and optimistic from the beginning. What happened the first time was so rare that I was not afraid of it happening again. And it didn’t. This time I “just” had a regular miscarriage, like everyone else. While it was happening it was actually a relief to lose a pregnancy without all the trauma and danger that went with the first time.
But afterward, when I got home, it was worse. It was the first time I faced the possibility that we might never have a kid. I was angry and drained and miserable, and the feelings didn’t fade for a long time. That’s when I decided it was time to write this. I wanted it to be mostly a record of the past, to be a place on the internet that I could not find when I needed to go there. But I think it will end up being about now, too.
I have a feeling that this blog will not be for the faint of heart. It is hard to find a balance, to write in a way that is true and accurate but not sensational or shocking. Maybe it needs to be shocking; I don’t know. Read on, or don’t, and find out with me.