Saturday, May 11, 2013

Bean Sprout

K was nervous in the weeks leading up to the ultrasound, but I wasn't. I really thought that this was it. I looked through the calendar and planned out our future. Bean Sprout was due on Christmas Day - she was going to be our Christmas miracle baby. Even though I know Christmas isn't a very good birthday, I figured I could try to have her a few days early or late by sure willpower, and the good part would be that our family would all be on break so they could come meet her. I had pre-emptively made my schedule for next year easy from November on, so I would have a lot of time off the spend with Bean Sprout. I looked at how far along I would be in each rotation, imagining my belly growing. K and I talked about names. Each Wednesday I would look up the week's developments and tell K: "This week Bean Sprout has a heart beat" "Today Bean Sprout is growing arms and legs" etc.

I knew things could go wrong, but I felt that they wouldn't. I thought we had made it through the hard part: 1.5 years ttc, IVF, a positve beta.

We went in for our ultrasound early so I could talk to the billing office to find out if my favorite OB would be in-plan. One of the nice ultrasound techs, who did a lot of my follicle scans, called me back. The TV monitor over the bed was tilted wrong, like when you are trying to watch a show on your computer and need to move the screen up or down to get the colors right. I thought about asking her to fix it, but I figured I would wait till we got Bean Sprout on screen - I couldn't wait to see her. She put the ultrasound wand in and I saw the sac right away. But as she scanned through it I didn't see a baby the size I expected to at 7w1d. There was a big yolk sack, and something small to the side. I looked up and saw her shake her head. She scanned through again and said "I am sorry." Bean Sprout had stopped growing. The yolk sac was dispraportionately large, the fetal pole tiny, and there was no heart beat. Laster, Dr. D said that the large yolk sac is associated with chromosomal abnormalities.

I sobbed the rest of the day and have been crying on and off since then.  I don't understand how this could happen. We've been waiting for this for long. It hurts so much.

I knew Mother's Day would be hard, having lost my Mother this last year, but I thought it would be easier having a baby growing inside me - becoming a mother myself. I felt like my Mom was watching down on me, trying to send me a gift to help me get through, but now I know that was a story I made up. I wanted to fill the holes in my heart from losing my mother, and father, and all my grandparents, but I've only succeeded in making another hole. I have lost another person that I love - because even though Bean Sprout was only a few weeks old, I loved her as soon as I saw the picture of the blast they were putting back inside of me. I had hopes and dreams and fears for her.

It is Mother's Day and I'm waiting for Bean Sprout's body to finally exit my womb. I took two doses of Misoprostol this weekend with no success so far. I just took the last dose a few hours ago. I am hoping this works, because if not I will have to get a D&C, which I am trying to avoid.

I'm sitting here wondering if Christmas will be sad forever now?


  1. oh Dee I am so very sorry. I wish there was something I could say to make you feel a little better. Take all the time you need to grieve this loss, we are all here for you.

  2. I'm sorry. I'm just so deeply sorry to hear this. It's just not okay that you have to go through this on Mother's Day, especially after losing your mother. I love the title of your blog. You are still a child of the universe. I am thinking about you all day long. Your Mother's Day will come. I don't know why universal events unfold the way they do, I don't know why some of us have to endure this pain, but I do know that one day you will have that hope growing inside you again. In the meantime, I wish you as much release as possible, tears, anger, time to be sad, time to feel the unfairness, time to scream and punch pillows.

  3. I am so sorry. So very very sorry.

    And yes, Christmas will be so sad this year, and will always be bittersweet. Treat yourself kindly. Make it about you and your husband, and take care of each other. All everyone else's expectations are Not Relevant. Because your loss, and your grief, is what is important.

    There are no words to express how my heart hurts for you.

  4. I found your blog through no good eggs and I wanted to comment on your post. I am so sorry for everything you have been through. Hearing the words "I am so sorry" at an ultrasound it one of the hardest things to bear and, when you have been through IVF to get there, having struggled so hard only seems to make it worse. It is so unfair, and sad and lonley. Things do get better and time does heal but grief and sadness come first. Once again, I am sorry.

  5. I'm so sorry about your loss. It just rips my heart out thinking about what you are going through. Christmas will be hard this year, but I wish you strength through all of those hard moments. I'll be thinking of you these coming weeks. Big hugs. xo

  6. I am just... so very, very, very sorry. So sorry.

  7. I know I have told you multiple times, but I am so sorry. This is the worst kind of unfair. You do not deserve to go through this. It's like the universe knows you are tough and just keeps testing you. So unfair. Hugs

  8. Stopping by from nogoodeggs. I'm so terribly sorry for your loss. Having experienced loss after infertility I know how unimaginably unfair this type of loss is. I wish I could offer so much more to you right now then just words. Sending thoughts and hope that in the moments when you need it most you feel surrounded by love and that you know there are so many sending hope your way. Hope things happen naturally and you don't néed a D&C, that was very worrisome for me as well with our last chemical pregnancy

  9. Writing this made me stop breathing. I literally cannot imagine what you are going through. I am so, so sorry.