Thy will...My loss.
"Thy will be done…" "I know you are good…" "I know you hear me..."
I can listen to all the songs to try to put my mind in the right place, but I’m not there. I can remind myself that there is a bigger plan and that God sees a bigger picture...but I am not there yet. I am numb, confused, and lost.
Those words and the way time stopped as my doctor uttered them: "I need to show you something...mass of cells...no developing fetus." I don’t know if I breathed for a solid 30 seconds. I heard what she said, but I knew I must have heard wrong. I was supposed to be seeing a nearly 9-weeks-along baby growing inside of me, but instead there was no life to be found. Suddenly the past weeks flashed through my mind… there was never a raspberry-sized fetus inside of me, no developing heart, lungs, brain, arms, legs… none of it.
For more than 5 weeks, I’d curiously followed along the apps telling me what was happening inside of my body, hopeful as each week passed with only mildly annoying pregnancy symptoms. I had begun to tell more people as my confidence grew. I’d made it to the ultrasound, and from there, I planned to tell a few more people by showing them the ultrasound picture of the itty bitty baby inside of me. I would be 12 weeks along by St Patrick’s Day weekend, so I already had some cute and clever ideas of how to make the official announcement.
Instead, I left my ultrasound appointment with a list of follow-up tests, appointments, and a rare diagnosis of a molar pregnancy - 1/1000 pregnancies end this way, and I was on the losing end of being the 0.1%. An outlier, as has been typical in my life. Unlike most miscarriages, there was never life inside of me, despite the fact that my body/hormones behaved as if I was legitimately pregnant. Even now, as I sit here 2 days until my scheduled D&C, my pants are too tight around my stomach, the pregnancy nausea still exists, and I’m exhausted. My body still thinks it’s pregnant, but I know it’s just hormones. Instead of a baby growing inside of me, there is a tumor-like growth that will continue to grow until it’s removed in a couple of days. For the second time in my adult life, I am growing a tumor.
Also unlike most miscarriages, the likelihood of recurrence is very rare (about 1%)...although, as an outlier, odds don’t comfort me. Another difference is that, although my body should return to normal in a couple of months, I will spend at least the next 6 months having my hormone levels tested because this tumor-like growth can spread if not removed entirely - it can spread and become cancerous. Chances of (very curable) cancer are only 20%...but again, odds do not comfort me. I am an outlier. I am not afraid, but I am numb.
I don’t know how to mourn the loss of something that never was, even if my mind and body believed it to have been real. I don’t know how to mourn when the road ahead is so long. I don’t know why God let me finally begin to have hope and confidence, to let go of my cynical and doubtful tendencies, only to let me down. I am angry at life and at God right now. I feel cheated. I feel like a fool. I don’t know what recovery looks like because I don’t know how to trust God again. I have been through a lot in my life that causes me to expect things to go wrong, and it took a huge leap of faith and extensive growth for me to finally believe in the good that was happening in me...but all along, I believed in something that wasn’t there.
I am angry because God let me have hope. It is rare for women to have no symptoms with a molar pregnancy because hormone levels are so high, yet I had none… my symptoms were that of a healthy pregnancy and a body that tolerated pregnancy quite well. I am angry, and I don’t know how to believe in good again. When I’m finally allowed to try to get pregnant again, I fear how my anxiety will handle it. I fear the worst case scenario of cancer and chemo and not being able to try again for well over a year. I fear complacency and giving up. I had only recently mentioned how my life felt whole and my path affirmed by God with each choice I made and conversation I had with God. I feel like I got played. I feel like a fool.
I feel like I am doomed to be an outlier - the reason statistics exist. I’m in the minority as it is...never married, had a rare miscarriage diagnosis, have had a tumor before...I’m even an outlier in good ways, but I just want to be NORMAL. I want to be typical. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. I have spent my whole life searching for the feeling of inclusion, and while I’ve had moments of belonging, I have never felt like I fit. Having a baby wasn’t going to make me "fit" (especially not being a single mom by choice), but it would have finally given me purpose. I feel like I will be okay. I will find my footing again. I will have faith again… but not yet. For now, I am broken and mourning and letting myself feel what I feel. I am confused and will not find answers immediately. For now, I have to focus on taking care of myself and finding a way to be hopeful for the long road ahead. For now, my prayers to God are short, but I will not stop praying...even if I’m telling Him how mad I am (He knows anyway). For now, I will keep going because it’s the only choice I have.
Also, for now, I am sharing my story because in the past few days the one thing that has made me feel most whole is when I’ve stopped hiding the truth and told people what is happening. I thought I’d be announcing a pregnancy, but instead I’m announcing something different. Either way, there is grace in being honest. So, that’s why I’m sharing my story now.
I can listen to all the songs to try to put my mind in the right place, but I’m not there. I can remind myself that there is a bigger plan and that God sees a bigger picture...but I am not there yet. I am numb, confused, and lost.
Those words and the way time stopped as my doctor uttered them: "I need to show you something...mass of cells...no developing fetus." I don’t know if I breathed for a solid 30 seconds. I heard what she said, but I knew I must have heard wrong. I was supposed to be seeing a nearly 9-weeks-along baby growing inside of me, but instead there was no life to be found. Suddenly the past weeks flashed through my mind… there was never a raspberry-sized fetus inside of me, no developing heart, lungs, brain, arms, legs… none of it.
For more than 5 weeks, I’d curiously followed along the apps telling me what was happening inside of my body, hopeful as each week passed with only mildly annoying pregnancy symptoms. I had begun to tell more people as my confidence grew. I’d made it to the ultrasound, and from there, I planned to tell a few more people by showing them the ultrasound picture of the itty bitty baby inside of me. I would be 12 weeks along by St Patrick’s Day weekend, so I already had some cute and clever ideas of how to make the official announcement.
Instead, I left my ultrasound appointment with a list of follow-up tests, appointments, and a rare diagnosis of a molar pregnancy - 1/1000 pregnancies end this way, and I was on the losing end of being the 0.1%. An outlier, as has been typical in my life. Unlike most miscarriages, there was never life inside of me, despite the fact that my body/hormones behaved as if I was legitimately pregnant. Even now, as I sit here 2 days until my scheduled D&C, my pants are too tight around my stomach, the pregnancy nausea still exists, and I’m exhausted. My body still thinks it’s pregnant, but I know it’s just hormones. Instead of a baby growing inside of me, there is a tumor-like growth that will continue to grow until it’s removed in a couple of days. For the second time in my adult life, I am growing a tumor.
Also unlike most miscarriages, the likelihood of recurrence is very rare (about 1%)...although, as an outlier, odds don’t comfort me. Another difference is that, although my body should return to normal in a couple of months, I will spend at least the next 6 months having my hormone levels tested because this tumor-like growth can spread if not removed entirely - it can spread and become cancerous. Chances of (very curable) cancer are only 20%...but again, odds do not comfort me. I am an outlier. I am not afraid, but I am numb.
I don’t know how to mourn the loss of something that never was, even if my mind and body believed it to have been real. I don’t know how to mourn when the road ahead is so long. I don’t know why God let me finally begin to have hope and confidence, to let go of my cynical and doubtful tendencies, only to let me down. I am angry at life and at God right now. I feel cheated. I feel like a fool. I don’t know what recovery looks like because I don’t know how to trust God again. I have been through a lot in my life that causes me to expect things to go wrong, and it took a huge leap of faith and extensive growth for me to finally believe in the good that was happening in me...but all along, I believed in something that wasn’t there.
I am angry because God let me have hope. It is rare for women to have no symptoms with a molar pregnancy because hormone levels are so high, yet I had none… my symptoms were that of a healthy pregnancy and a body that tolerated pregnancy quite well. I am angry, and I don’t know how to believe in good again. When I’m finally allowed to try to get pregnant again, I fear how my anxiety will handle it. I fear the worst case scenario of cancer and chemo and not being able to try again for well over a year. I fear complacency and giving up. I had only recently mentioned how my life felt whole and my path affirmed by God with each choice I made and conversation I had with God. I feel like I got played. I feel like a fool.
I feel like I am doomed to be an outlier - the reason statistics exist. I’m in the minority as it is...never married, had a rare miscarriage diagnosis, have had a tumor before...I’m even an outlier in good ways, but I just want to be NORMAL. I want to be typical. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. I have spent my whole life searching for the feeling of inclusion, and while I’ve had moments of belonging, I have never felt like I fit. Having a baby wasn’t going to make me "fit" (especially not being a single mom by choice), but it would have finally given me purpose. I feel like I will be okay. I will find my footing again. I will have faith again… but not yet. For now, I am broken and mourning and letting myself feel what I feel. I am confused and will not find answers immediately. For now, I have to focus on taking care of myself and finding a way to be hopeful for the long road ahead. For now, my prayers to God are short, but I will not stop praying...even if I’m telling Him how mad I am (He knows anyway). For now, I will keep going because it’s the only choice I have.
Also, for now, I am sharing my story because in the past few days the one thing that has made me feel most whole is when I’ve stopped hiding the truth and told people what is happening. I thought I’d be announcing a pregnancy, but instead I’m announcing something different. Either way, there is grace in being honest. So, that’s why I’m sharing my story now.
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