Three years. That’s how long it took me to conceive. At first I wasn’t really trying because I didn’t think I was really ready. I was selfish and wanted to continue living my life without children. I thought it will happen when it happens. So, after a year of trying half heartedly and after making my first appointment with a fertility expert, a sensation came over me. I was irritable, tired, and bloated. I already had an appointment with my doctor, so I kept it. I went in and got the whole talk about how ovaries work, and how eggs are produced, blah blah blah. I said, “I think I might be pregnant.” They looked at me like I was crazy, but said, “let’s take a pregnancy test just to make sure.” I peed into a cup and waited. 10 minutes later the nurse came in and told me the news that I wanted to hear. I was ecstatic. I immediately felt life inside me. A little embryo burrowing itself into my uterine wall. I put all those thoughts of infertility and desperation behind me. I was pregnant!
That afternoon I was flying out to San Francisco to attend a silent meditation retreat for five days. The timing of it was surreptitious. I got to sit in silence with my baby, eat nutritious food, walk, and be surrounded by nature. I met my friend, Lindsey in San Francisco who was also doing the retreat. I had to tell someone besides my husband the news. I’ll never forget waiting in line at a popular brunch spot, my stomach was grumbling, and I was anxious to not only feed myself, but to feed my baby too. It felt so good to tell someone.
The retreat is located in the redwood forests of Marin County, near Mt. Tam. Wild turkeys, deer, and rabbit call it home. It is peaceful and comforting, like a wool blanket on a cold day. Every morning I would wake up and make my way down the hill in the mist to get my earl grey tea. This was my favorite time of day as I sat and watched the world through my steamy cup of tea. The rest of the day we sat in meditation, listened to dharma talks, did our mindfulness chores, hiked in the forested hills, ate wholesome food, and existed in silence. The only being I talked to you was my baby. The silence outside allowed me to connect deeper with the life growing inside me.
I ended my trip with an extended stay in San Francisco. My friend, Hye was traveling and offered me her place in North Beach. North Beach was the perfect launching pad for my San Francisco adventure. It is in the center of many historical and urban landmarks. Saint Peter and Pauls Church, Washington Square Park, Telegraph Hill, Chinatown, Russian Hill, Fisherman’s Wharf, and Coit Tower were all within walking distance. Every morning I would run down to Ferry Building and get a latte from Blue Bottle, then make my way back via an alternate route that took me past the City Lights Bookstore and other sights of the Beatnik generation. At night, I visited with friends in Russian Hill and went to a Peruvian pop up restaurant with my friends, Georgia and Peter and their friends, all endurance runners, one having just won the San Francisco marathon the day before. It was a fairytale trip.
Eventually I made my way back home to Sun Valley. I was now 7 weeks along, feeling more pregnant and confident that my baby was growing inside me. After hiking with a friend, I noticed some blood in my underwear. My heart sank. In my experience, blood was not a good sign. I called my doctor immediately. She ordered a lab to test my Beta level. This was to see if the baby was healthy and doing well. My level was positive, but I had to take a follow up test to see whether the levels had doubled in two days. Two days later I took the test and my greatest fears came true: my levels didn’t rise like we wanted them to. I still wanted to hold on and believe my baby was going to make it. I continued to treat my body like it was pregnant, took more tests and had a couple ultrasounds. On the first ultrasound they found a faint heartbeat, on the last ultrasound the heartbeat was gone. My world shattered. My baby that I envisioned holding in my arms, watching their first step, teaching how to ride a bike, sending off to school, and loving with all my heart was taken from me.
I had what was called a spontaneous miscarriage, which is the loss of the fetus before the 20th week of pregnancy. Even though I felt so alone in my pain, as many as 50% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. Usually, it is a hormonal imbalance or a chromosomal abnormality. Regardless of statistics telling me that miscarriages were typical, my pain still felt isolating. Not only was it emotional painful, but physically painful. Since the fetus never emptied completely, I had to “expel” it through drugs. I wanted “it” out of me as soon as possible. I didn’t like the feeling of “it” being inside me. So, right before school started, I took some drugs that took a few hours to kick in. It was in the middle of the night when the pain tore through my stomach. It was like the worst period cramps rolled together with food poisoning and dipped in influenza. My insides felt like they were tied in knots, as I threw up and expelled copious amounts of blood. I thought I was dying and might need to go to the emergency room, but relieving the pain with heated water bottles and funny movies, I made it through the night.
I had heard about women having miscarriages, but it was a distant reality. After having my first miscarriage, I was thrown into the world of fertility doctors, drugs, acupuncturists, chinese herbs, and emotional upheaval. I was now part of a tribe of women around the world who have unexplained loss. I blamed myself and felt that the universe was telling me that I wasn’t cut out to be a mother. It was a downward spiral of inadequacy, self-loathing, guilt, and mourning for my lost baby and my lost identity.
