My husband and I met when we were just 16 and 17 years old, in 2010. We very quickly became good friends and our relationship blossomed to more, a few years later.
We got married in October of 2019 and wanted to wait a couple years before starting a family. We had no idea when we started trying October of 2022, what the next few years ahead of us would entail.
After a year of trying to conceive, we were ecstatic to find out that I was pregnant in November of 2023. I remember waking up that morning, nervous to take yet another test and be devastated with another negative, only to be SHOCKED to see it was positive! I couldn’t wait, I told my husband as soon as he was awake. I had an appointment scheduled the next day to see a fertility specialist and decided to keep it, just in case. The following day, prior to the specialist appointment, I started to bleed. I was absolutely crushed, knowing this was likely a sign of miscarriage. At the appointment, they did an ultrasound (it was too early to see anything) and started with blood work. I was contacted the next day and told my HCG levels (pregnancy levels) had dropped from that morning to that afternoon and that yes, I was miscarrying. They recommended repeating the blood work in two days to be sure the levels were going back down to normal. The specialist tried to encourage us in that we had gotten pregnant and that that was something to be thankful for. I felt hopeless.
I started to wrap my head around the fact that I was miscarrying, and wondering what the future would hold for us and trying to start a family.
Two days later, after repeating the blood work, they called and told me the HCG blood work was rising. It was like whiplash, I was so confused. I thought I was miscarrying? Working in the medical field, I knew we were likely headed into the territory of ‘ectopic until proven otherwise’. They wanted to be sure we in fact saw this was a viable pregnancy. I had serial ultrasounds, continued to bleed (had a full five days of heavy bleeding, like a full on period), only to find out over the next week or so, there was in fact a gestational sac and yolk sac, then a week later a fetal heartbeat!! I continued to bleed and they continued to closely monitor the pregnancy. Throughout that time, I ended up in the Emergency Room a handful of times, including Christmas Eve, with significantly heavy bleeding, convinced that this was it, I was miscarrying. Each time, an ultrasound would prove otherwise, we’d see our strong baby’s heartbeat, but also the blood that was encapsulating almost the entire sac.
I was finally diagnosed with a large subchorionic hematoma, with no known cause. I had no risk factors, no history to suggest why this had happened. Each appointment they would discuss the fact that there was a likely possibility I would experience pre term labor, due to the large bleed irritating the sac, potentially leading to your water breaking. We continued to hope, pray, and wait.
I did my best to take it easy, when I was able to I tried to bed rest (mixed reviews on whether this even helps). I had an early anatomy scan at 16 weeks and found out our baby was perfectly healthy. We wanted to keep the sex a surprise, but everything was normal and healthy, despite this large bleed that had not gotten any smaller..
Monday, February 19, I woke up that evening, after falling asleep, when my husband came home from a late co-ed soccer game. I felt the all too familiar gush of liquid, thinking I was likely having another significant bleed. I rushed to the bathroom only to see this was maybe not blood? Was this my water breaking? I panicked, hoping I must be overthinking this. I had bled significantly, so many times, that I would try to wait things out. I used my doppler and found a nice strong heart beat, which eased my mind, only slightly. After next to no sleep, I woke up the next day and headed to work. All morning I knew I should send a message to my OB, I just had this gut feeling. When I did, they advised me to come to labor and delivery to be evaluated.
After getting checked in, they recommended a few things to see if it was in fact my water, including testing and an ultrasound. The ultrasound revealed that I had essentially no amniotic fluid and given the episode I described the night prior, this was likely a preterm rupture of membranes, likely due to the large subchorionic hematoma.
Our absolute worst nightmare was coming true. I have and likely will never cry the way I did that day. I’ll never forget the feeling of my heart, for the first, and hopefully only time, fully ripping and breaking. I knew without water/amniotic fluid that our sweet baby’s lungs could and would not develop. I knew we had a few options, but I knew I needed to meet this sweet baby. My body had already started the process of labor, I was admitted that afternoon.
After 12 hours of labor, on February 21, I delivered our beautiful baby boy. The whole experience still feels like an out of body experience, like I was there, but I wasn’t. We found out he was a boy, just hours before delivery, but I feel like I had known all along.
During my pregnancy, as we were deciding on names, my husband and I heard the name Owen, on a show we had been watching together. They mentioned in the show that the name Owen was Irish (which my husband is) and that it had the meaning ‘little fighter’ or ‘young warrior’. At the same exact time, my husband and I made eye contact and I think at that moment we both knew, this is our boy, this is Owen (even though we didn’t know he was a boy, yet).
When we got to meet Owen, he was the perfect combination of my husband and I. Seeing how his features were already present and how amazing it was to see our own reflections and genetics in him, though he was little, was incredible. We spent the day loving on him and holding him. When it came time to leave the hospital and I was discharged, I didn’t think I could physically leave. It felt like I was leaving part of my heart and soul at the hospital. For weeks, I’d wake up in the middle of the night, crying, just in disbelief that this had happened and that we lost him. I still cannot fathom just how unfair life can be.
The hospital sent me home with a care package and information on resources. In the box was a packet of Forget Me Not seeds, which I’ve come to learn represent infant and pregnancy loss. I couldn’t believe it. Just two years before, I had convinced my mom to get a matching tattoo with me, and what had we picked to get? Forget Me Nots and in nothing other than the color blue. I had no idea the real meaning this tattoo would end up having for me, just two years later, delivering my sweet Owen. I also found out that I had gotten the tattoo on July 20, two years prior, which July 20, 2024 was my due date. A few months ago, I had his name added to that tattoo.
His name and the tattoo, along with so many other symbols and signs, have shown me he has and always will be with us. I miss him every day and I wish, so badly, that things had turned out differently.
Fast forward to when we decided we were hesitant, but ready to try again. When I delivered Owen, they encouraged me that the risk of a hematoma happening again was next to zero, very unlikely. But it did not help to ease my concerns. We learned we were up against some possible fertility struggles (which given our history, finally made sense). We were back to the month after month of negative tests and the disappointment and feeling that was all too familiar.
In October, while on a trip for our 5th wedding anniversary, after several months of trying, I just felt like I needed to take a test. It was in the afternoon, I knew the test (even if positive) may not show because it was still a few days before a missed period. I decided, anyway, against my better judgement, to take a test. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the faint line pop up. My husband was excited but cautious, we were a mix of emotions.
I had previously tried to imagine how I would feel going through another pregnancy, and though in a lot of ways I was spot on (anxiety, PTSD, scared to go to the bathroom and of seeing blood), I’ve also surprised myself in how strong I really am.
My husband ended up out of town for work the first three months of this pregnancy, which was a curse but a blessing. Being alone the majority of the time, up until I made it past the time I lost Owen, was not easy. Time has thankfully continued on, the days are long but the weeks have somehow felt shorter than usual, and for that I am so thankful. I also am due again, in July, and can’t help but feel that Owen sent us his sibling to remind us he’s with us and watching over us, always.
We are over the moon, yet cautious. I’m not sure we will feel peace, or that I can take a deep breath, until I have a full term, healthy baby, in my arms.
We are holding our breath, praying and thankful for every day of this pregnancy.
I’m so thankful to this community, to those who have felt comfortable sharing their stories, it helped me through the truly darkest days of my life. It was awakening to see our family and friends that were really there for us, that surprised us in their empathy and support, and disheartening to see those who we thought would be, and weren’t. It has helped to see others share their story of frustration involving the lack of support and recognition for our sweet children we’ve lost.
It will never be fair, it will never make sense, but knowing we are not alone does bring comfort. Being able to read others’ thoughts and stories has allowed me to put my feelings into words and help me sort out my frustration with my beliefs.
I’m thankful to be a part of this rainbow project and I wish a gentle hope to anyone reading this story that you, too, get all you hope and dream for in this life. Thank you for taking the time to read our story.
I’d like to add that on June 26, we welcomed our baby boy, Luke Owen.
Pregnancy after loss was everything and nothing like I expected. The mix of emotions that comes; joy, doubt, love, grief. The “aren’t you excited?!” of course, but I’m also holding my breath. As soon as Luke was here, I finally felt like I could breathe, for the first time in so long. We know Owen sent his little brother straight to us.
Photos taken by @anitaelizabethphotography.
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