My husband and I were trying for 8 months of tracking cycles and surges when the purchase of our fixer upper finally went through, with 2 weeks until our current lease was up. During the mad dash to get things mostly move in ready and move out of one place and move into another, I stopped tracking my cycles.
We had to gut the only working bathroom. We finally had a working toilet and I’m not quite sure what made me think about it. I hadn’t been tracking anything for a month, but I dug out a pregnancy test and to my surprise it said “pregnant”. I stifled a giggle and ran out to our garage to look in the many boxes of unimportant things for my “we’re pregnant gifts” for my husband. I had an ice ice _____ shirt with an arrow pointing to my belly and a book of dad jokes for him. He was in the kitchen waiting for me. He said he heard the giggle and put it together.
We were so happy. We told those in our inner most circle and immediate family. We wanted to wait the 12 weeks (how silly of us to think we’d be safe after the first trimester was over)
I had two subserosal fibroids (on the outside of my uterus) about the size of a strawberry and blueberry. Nothing to be worried about. During my pregnancy they became the size of a grapefruit and apple (why always fruit?). I was super uncomfortable but was so happy to be having the son I always wanted, Logan George. He was already so loved by so many. We ran into some difficulties with the large fibroids. They caused shadows on ultrasounds so they were certain something was wrong with him. First they had us check all the genetic possibilities, nothing. Then they assumed it must be his heart, again specialist after specialist nothing can be found.
We were 24 weeks in when I woke up on a Monday morning with intense pains. Went to work (had to save my days) and told my husband I think I should go to the hospital. He ran me a warm bath and started googling and said he doesn’t think we should waste an ER visit, that they’re just going to tell us it’s nothing. Couldn’t sleep because of the pain. Went to work. Called the OBGYN office, left on my lunch break for their “emergency” time slot with the one doctor available. He was the only male in the practice and I had never dealt with him before. He had a nurse come in and ask me questions and relay them back to him in his office. This went on for 15 minutes. She had me pee in a cup. He finally came in told me he reviewed my file and can see I have fibroids. So they’re probably going through something called “red degeneration” and it’s painful but there’s nothing to be done. I told him about how my pains are 6-7 minutes apart he told me there’s no way I could be in labor. Take a Tylenol and Benadryl to help me sleep. I went back to work assured everyone I was going to be okay. Just had to deal with pain for a few more months. I actually got a little sleep that night.
Wednesday arrived with more intense pain. Thinking I was just gonna have to deal I went to work. I asked to not have to attend a meeting after hours and was told I had to. I had to keep getting up to move. The pains were so intense. Finally got home. Took a bath. Saw my son was stretching and I’d tap the spot and he’d pop up somewhere else. It’s my most cherished memory. I spent the night in labor (I now know) no sleep pain coming 2-3 minutes apart. Still went to work, my husband had off so I asked him to drive me. Again we were reassured by the doctor that it was just nothing but normal pain. I barely made it before calling my husband to come back. We went to the MFM we had been seeing and thankfully they were located within the hospital. The gave me something for pain. Put us in an office to wait for the doctor. I went to use the bathroom and my mucus plug came out. I stared crying. They had to unlock the door. The MFM doctor was supposed to confirm it was my fibroids degenerating. He couldn’t all he did was note that my son was under 2 lbs and I was fully dilated. Our son was coming right now. They rushed me up to labor and delivery.
My poor husband shoved in a corner of a small room while so many people surrounded me to prick and prod me. My water broke on a few of them. I had to sign papers I did not know what I was signing. Our son was breached. We were 24 weeks and 5 days in, he wasn’t ready. I had an emergency C-section. He made no noise but was alive. He made it 45 minutes until his lungs gave up (the one thing they didn’t test) I was handed my son who was still warm and asked “do you have a funeral home in mind or would you like us to medically dispose of the body” I was in total shock of the whole thing and my husband asked them to leave.
The whole thing was like a foggy nightmare. My son dead in the room with us as family members came to visit. Holding and bathing him. The pain I felt loosing him was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. My parents arranged for the funeral home in our town to come collect him and cremate him. I ordered him an urn with his hands and feet prints on them. He barely takes up any space in there but he sits on my dresser. I get ready with him each morning and night. I give him his much deserved kisses and hugs.
I watched others I was pregnant with go on to have their babies. I became depressed and bitter towards those who didn’t acknowledge my son. I had to return back to work with small children who asked me about my son.
On my birthday that June I had the fibroids removed. They also discovered endometriosis. My “try again in a year” moved to “start trying again in 6 months” after they discovered that. So come December we start trying. I was having mixed emotions. Started therapy and I am trying to find a happy balance for my grief and joy to coexist. When the months went by with no luck we started our fertility journey at a clinic.
Finding out my husband’s part are a little lazy. And for me they were seeing a cyst blocking my entrance. However we were still trying at home. They were ordering me an MRI with contrast when the scheduling person asked me all those questions. When I answered her Yes, I could possibly be pregnant she had to talk to her boss. It went all the way to a supervisor who said they will not do it if I am. Told them I’d know in a week.
Well, all that week I kept seeing signs a rainbow followed me home for an hour. Bluejays at home and work (bluejays remind me of my grandfather that I was very close with) Seeing another rainbow as a tow truck passes by me that says Logan in big white letters with a blue George going through it. (Later googled the company they’re called George Logan but Logan is the bigger lettering and we gave him the name George for my grandfather).
With these signs coming at me all week I decided to test 5 days early on a Friday night (I was keeping track this time). I saw the faintest of lines on that test strip. I barged in on my sleeping husband and shoved my pee covered stick in his face to confirm he sees it too and that I haven’t finally cracked. He did I was elated. I put it next to Logan and told him to watch after them. The next morning my husband went off to work and I peed on a digital early detection stick this time. And that pregnant word flashed onto the screen in no time.
The joy from the night before turned into anxiety. I hugged Logan and let him know he’ll always be my baby, always. I remembered that it’s possible and okay to feel happy and sad.
My husband and I are both scared and excited for our rainbow baby. I have decided not to follow any of societies rules about when to tell. While we have the joy of this news we will tell people. If we do loose this baby too, if its 8 weeks or 40 weeks at least people will know why I’m sad again. I shouldn’t have to hide my joy and sorrow to make others feel more comfortable. Those who matter won’t mind and those who mind shouldn’t matter.
Update: 7 months since I had written this. 7 months of scares, joy, eagerness, anxiety, and pure happiness. My daughter was born via C-section at 37 weeks. My husband and I cried with relief when we heard her crying as she was checked over, assuring ourselves that we did it and she was here. She was, as all parents think, perfect. She was alive and well and in our arms. The next few days at the hospital were a whirlwind of emotions and being in a little bubble. A few nurses had mentioned that they could see in my chart that we had suffered a previous loss. One nurse asked me what his name was and offered to send a little prayer his way that night. She came into our room the next day to let us know that the two patients she’s taking care of that day both had babies whose name was Logan. Letting us know our son is there with us. I sobbed thinking about my son and how he’s not there to physically meet his sister but I hope he presents himself to her throughout her life.
1 week postpartum and I am still so happy to have my rainbow in my arms and can’t wait to tell her about her brother. I tell her brother about her all the time. I still grieve my son and all that he will continue to miss out on. But I am also very thankful he sent us his sister. She is perfect and we are so happy to have her to give our love to.
Photos taken by Maggie D’Aiuto.
Find out more about Project Finding Your Rainbow.
Make sure to follow Journey For Jasmine on Instagram and Facebook!
Pin and help spread the project!
