** Insanely long and I don’t expect anyone to read, unless they want to…”
I have never attempted to document or tell anyone else much detail about these miscarriages. Not because they were unimportant to me, but because the pregnancies were all found after the baby was dead, or was already dying, so no one knew I was pregnant (not even G to some degree). Two and three also all happened during a period of timing where I wasn’t on birth control, but wasn’t truly TRYING to get pregnant, just not trying to not get pregnant. I wanted to get pregnant, but I had been seriously trying for two years with no results, so we were “relaxing” (because everybody gets pregnant if they just relax and stop trying). None of the babies had nicknames. I feel bad for that now. Sometimes I wonder if Blueberry Bean’s death was a form of punishment for not taking good enough care of his four brothers and sisters. (I KNOW that’s nonsense, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking it.)
I was 23 when I got pregnant for the second time. I knew I was pregnant almost right away, even though it was 8 years since my last pregnancy. I went on a pretty strict diet and lost 60 pounds in three months. When I came off of the diet, I kept the weight off for a while. during that time, I got pregnant three times. So, maybe my fat ass does have something to do with the difficulty conceiving. Back to the story. In May of 2003 I strongly suspected that I was pregnant, so I took a test. But the control line didn’t show up, defective, fuck! I told G about the control line and that I would get another one. This was during the time in our lives when $10 was a lot of money. So, getting a second $13 test was a major investment. I got the test, but woke up in the night having started my period. In the morning, still bleeding, I decided that since I’d bought the test, I might as well use it. It was positive. So, I knew from my previous experience that it would “work itself out”. I was five weeks pregnant. I would have been due in January 2004. My sister was pregnant with Big C while I was pregnant. I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone. I told G the test was a fluke. Everyone was under enough strain with my sister being pregnant and my Papaw having just died (and we took care of him, he did not die in a hospital, he died at home with his family, so that was a lot more stress on us). I suffered alone. Trying to placate myself with thoughts of how maybe the second test was defective, too. (In future discussions with ob/gyns and RE’s the consensus is that the test was not defective and I was five weeks pregnant.) That child would be five, getting ready to turn six in January. He would have been just a couple of months younger than Big C. They’d have been best friends.
I didn’t get pregnant again until February of 2005. At the time I was working for a very screwed up little company. One of my coworkers was sabotaging my work and reputation for her own purposes (code for she wanted to be the only chick in the office because she was screwing one of the guys). It was a very stressful working environment. I was 6 weeks pregnant before I even realized it. I called my gynecologist to confirm the pregnancy and check that it was OK (because at this point I was quite sure that there was something wrong with me beyond the PCOS). My appointment was on a Thursday. On Wednesday I had a meeting with my boss where he informed me that he had been given an ultimatum, and chose the other person because she didn’t have a non compete and I did. I started bleeding that night. The next day at my appt. the doctor did find a heartbeat, but it was only 50 beats per minute. The bleeding picked up and the beta numbers were dropping. Again, I told no one. I told G that the test was positive, but I was bleeding again. I didn’t tell him about the heartbeat, and dropping numbers. I didn’t want to upset him. To this day part of me blames that toxic co-worker for the death of my baby girl (obviously, I don’t know that for sure, as I had no D&C and thus no genetic testing, but that was my feeling at the time). I would have been due in November of 2005. Today she would have been 3 getting ready to turn four. Almost exactly half way between Big C and Little C.
There was another long space between pregnancies 3 and 4. I didn’t get pregnant again until March of 2007. Except for Blueberry Bean and Spring Baby all of my pregnancies were spaced so that the pregnancies would not have overlapped. Meaning, I really could potentially have had four children. With number four, we were back to temping and using OPK’s. I ovulated just before Easter. My Gran went in for an elective back surgery the week after Easter. She died in the ICU two weeks later. The last thing I said to her was that I was pregnant. I asked her to stay with us long enough to see my baby be born. Apparently, since two of my cousins and my sister were also pregnant that wasn’t a big enough draw for her. So, that year my sister had Little C, my “twin” cousin A (who is 10 days younger than me) had her boy and my little cousin M had a little girl. I had a miscarriage. At five weeks. Again, with the rash of viable pregnancies and the stress of losing Gran, I told no one, except G & Gran. But, I told my Gran first. I like to think she died thinking that I was finally going to have a baby (I mean, hell, I was 27 that’s OLD according to her standards of child bearing. I should have been on at least #3, if only she knew). I would have been due in December of 2007. That baby would still be a baby. He’d just be getting ready to turn two.
I actually feel a little better getting that all out. I’ve been thinking about creating a memorial for all of the children in our home somewhere. We have a small tribute to Blueberry Bean in our spring 2009 memory book, but I’d like to honor all of them. I’ve been thinking about the Japanese concept of mizuko (their name for an unborn/miscarried/aborted baby), since Mo brought it up today. The Japanese have a Buddhist tradition involving shrines for honoring the mizuko. I think it’s nice.