Heart on the Cross

A long time ago I used to be able to take a pregnancy test, see that it was positive and be excited, waiting with great expectation the many wonderful- and sometimes difficult- symptoms of pregnancy to hit within a week or two. After our 5th was born something new began and it has continued for the last 5 years. On doctors charts it’s called “recurrent pregnancy loss”. What it looks like is this: I take a pregnancy test, it’s positive. Sometimes I take several and they get darker and darker- for day and even weeks. But within 2-3 weeks they start to get lighter, if I’m checking HcG levels they start to increase and then they stop and around 6 weeks the pregnancy is over and I begin to miscarry. 6 of my 8 pregnancy losses have played out this way. 

In 2019 we thought we discovered the cause - low progesterone. I successfully conceived and brought Anastasia and Scotty to term by taking progesterone immediately after ovulation and doubling it when I got a positive pregnancy test. However, in the last 6 months I’ve had 3 more losses in a row during which I took my progesterone as directed, the same way I did with Annie and Scotty, and still lost my little ones. I’m writing about it because as I navigate it all there are so few people that I can talk to- who have experienced it and who understand it- and if this can serve to help anyone woman who’s dealing with it feel less alone and isolated that would be great. Also I’m processing what has turned out to be the most excruciating experience of my life - a  cross that I never would have thought I’d be given and one that I’m struggling to carry well. I struggle with resentment towards friends who just find out they’re pregnant and stay pregnant, even resentment toward my past self who enjoyed that experience 5 times in a row and took it for granted. I even COMPLAINED about the onset of the hard pregnancy symptoms that I would give anything to experience now because that would mean things were actually progressing and not ending again

This most recent one has gone on much longer, with my HcG levels continuing to go up a little for almost a month, but still staying so low that we've known for at least 2 weeks that the pregnancy is not viable. The pain of technically "being pregnant" without being pregnant for weeks is unlike anything I've experienced. There have been ultrasounds and about a million blood draws to try to rule out ectopic and verify there is no heartbeat and I just narrowly avoided my first D&C, I finally began miscarrying naturally the day before I was supposed to go in for it. We are traveling to the Holy Land in one week and the time crunch nearly forced the D&C route. I know D&C is no biggy for so many but the risk of scar tissue (among others) which would further compromise my already difficult fertility situation made it a very not ideal option. 

As I sat waiting for my most recent ultrasound there was a couple who had just come out from theirs with their little ultrasound photos of their baby that looked about exactly how big my own little one would be, if he/she had continued to grow. 

It took my breath away. 

I stared at the ceiling trying to hold back tears. 

I have 7 kids! I’ve gotten to experience the joy of that first ultrasound so many times! How can I still be as sad as if it this were my first baby!? I can because I love each of these little ones as much as I loved my very first baby and every single moment with each child has brought me the same amount of joy as all the first moments with my first baby.

It is a difficult situation to navigate with so many people in the medical field, that is, being a mother with 7 beautiful children and coping with miscarriage. I have so many babies! Seven? Isn’t that enough? Why would we want more? Why are you trying for more? Why can’t you be content? These are questions I hear (sometimes out loud, sometimes implied) and I defensively attempt explanations to the various medical professionals asking too many questions while I grieve. As I experience the grief that is so raw and real with each loss, I’m so careful not to express even a hint of ingratitude for the kids I’ve been given. On the contrary, each time I’ve miscarried my gratitude for my living children increases exponentially. I cannot believe the Lord blessed me with these babies, even in my young and comparatively ungrateful state, when I thought of babies as my right and took my fertility for granted. 

I used to be worried about this blog turning into a blog about miscarriage but at this point I think that the only way it will continue to exist is as a place for me to write about just that, and I’m completely ok with it, though I think I’ll need to change the name of it. It’s strange and sad to think that I began it as a way to cope with the chaos of having so many babies close together and to find community with other mothers “drowning in babies”. Now here I am 13 years later writing to process the grief I have from the many babies I’ve lost and to find community in a whole new area of motherhood- with those who’ve grieved their lost children as well. 

I never would have chosen this as the my path to holiness but it’s ok. The cross is the cross and if it gets me to Our Lord I will continue to accept it, in the imperfect way that I do. 

We found out we were expecting on Easter Sunday and carried our little one through the feast of Saint Athanasius. We’ve name this little one Athanasius Paschal. Saint Athanasius and Saint Paschal, pray for us.