Hello and Goodbye

Trigger Warning - this is my personal story about child loss.

In August 2014, we made my pregnancy Facebook official with the above photo. At the time, my husband made these signs at the printing shop he worked at. And bless our puppies (Diyogee (D-O-G) and Loxley) for being so patient with us to capture this photo perfectly. Then we made it Facebook official. We were elated to finally share our little secret for all to know.

In early September, we found out we had little dude. My heart burst with excitement. On my side of the family, we had loads of girls. The year before we got pregnant, my brother and sister in law had the first (stillborn) boy in our family. Ours would be the next. At this point, I was half way through my pregnancy and no name for our baby yet. We had plenty of time to pick one out….

A couple of weeks later, Charles went to a bachelor party. I was going to hang out at home and curl up on the couch. The little guy was tiring me out! I had gone to the bathroom and saw some blood. “Um, that’s weird.” I thought. I know that bleeding/spotting happens but this seemed odd. I should call the OB, but my Spidey sense prompted me to get into the car and drive to the ER. Fortunately, the hospital was only a few miles away. I called Charles on the drive to let him know and I started to get scared. Something didn’t feel right. I got checked in and settled into a room.

The attending doctor comes in and I tell him what’s going on. They check my vitals and then he checks my cervix. He then tells me that I am dilated and that he’s going to need to call a colleague for more guidance. I start getting really scared. How could I be dilated already? I’m only at 23 weeks. What does this mean? The doctor suspected that I had a condition called “incompetent cervix.” Think of your cervix as the plug in the body that keeps the baby inside like a bottle cap. Unfortunately, my bottle cap was broken.

Soon after, I was told that I was being transported to their downtown Seattle location with a NICU. I called Charles and my parents to let them know where they were taking me. In the ambulance, I started having contractions. Like really intense ones. Thankfully, Charles was at the hospital waiting for me when I arrived. He could see the fear in my eyes. The doctor gave us the news that no parent ever wants to hear:

I was going to deliver our son tonight.

But we were going to have to also say goodbye to him too.

We were given the other option of admitting him into the NICU however the road ahead would be so hard for his tiny body. Months in the NICU, potential surgeries, potential permanent ailments, and the possibility that he wouldn’t survive. Were we prepared for what his life could look like? Our life-altering decision was needed in 5-10 minutes.

For us, the answer was clear, but it was devastating.

I had no control over my body. I was sobbing uncontrollably while clinging onto Charles for support all while going into full on labor. During this moment, I let past experiences dictate our present one. Without going into too much detail, I told Charles that we couldn’t see and hold our son after I delivered. Because I didn’t want our first and last memory of him dying in our arms. Charles and I have always been a unit and despite any feelings on the situation that he may have had, he agreed to this decision.

This was the single worst decision I have ever made in my entire life

and I will forever wish I could have changed my answer

Within the next hour, I delivered our little boy. The nurses asked if we wanted to hold him to which we declined. And they took him away. I was broken. I had failed. I was the worst mother in the world because I couldn’t do the one thing that a mother was supposed to do: anything and everything to protect my child.

I was released from the hospital the next morning, knowing that I was leaving as a shell of my former self. A part of me died with him. Delivering a baby and leaving a hospital without them. I wish no one ever has to experience this. And if you have, my heart is with you and I’m truly sorry.

Telling our friends and family the horrible turn of events was just as painful. I remember one of the conversations with one of my GFs that had gone to a football game at our alma mater that weekend. They were halfway home from the long drive when I called and they told me afterwards that it was a somber one as they cried, prayed, and sat in silence processing the information I just shared with them.

The crazy thing was that I was supposed to have gone with them to the football game. I made the last minute decision to stay home, as though it was a sixth sense that something horrible was about to happen. I am thankful that I did stay home because I couldn’t even imagine being so far from home and not having Charles by my side in those fateful moments.

Now what? Where do we go from here? So much processing and healing is needed to mend our broken hearts. What does our journey to parenthood look like now?

Knocked Up

When I was sitting in the doctor’s office in utter belief hearing “You’re pregnant” come out of the nurse practitioner’s mouth. I had gone in their office to find out what my fertility treatment options, but clearly I did not need any at all!

Leaving the office, I immediately called Charles but he didn’t answer his phone. I needed to share this information ASAP so BFF is next up. She answered and I scream into the phone the exciting news. I finally got to share the news with Charles and together we were excited for what the future held for us. We’re going to be parents. Mommy and Daddy. Our first child. The start of a new chapter in our lives.

Before we get too excited about all of this goodness, I was 3 days away from my friend’s bachelorette party in Cabo San Lucas. At an all-inclusive resort. Well shit. What am I going to do? I couldn't skip drinking because it’s a girls weekend celebrating her impending wedding. And my friends know that I like to enjoy many cocktails.

I devised a plan that I would order a drink when the girls ordered and then excuse myself to talk to the server to switch the drink to non-alcoholic. That worked a few times, but I didn’t plan for when they ordered FOR me. I’ll admit, I did have a sip or two of alcohol on the flight down. In hindsight, this was not my finest hour. I tried nursing the beverage hoping that my friends didn’t notice that I wasn’t drinking it.

Once we got settled to the resort, we were sitting down for dinner when I started getting nauseous. I went off to use the restroom and got sick. Hooray morning sickness, didn’t you know that I was in Cabo on vacation? You’re a real pill.

My friends got worried and a couple came to check on me. I couldn’t hide my secret anymore. Time to share the news. At the table, I finally shared that I was indeed pregnant, which I felt horrible sharing because I didn’t want to take away from celebrating my friend. Naturally, everyone was excited and there was a sense of relief finally getting that off of my chest. The rest of the trip was still great despite being sober while the rest were not.

Back home, Charles and I settled in planning our future. But little did we know that we couldn’t plan for what was in store. No one could.

Let's Do This (or at Least Try to)

Soon after our November 2013 wedding, Charles and I decided to grow our family. My bestie, bless her, for being the ultimate rockstar by helping me plan my wedding, by being my matron of honor at NINE freaking months and delivered at almost 42 weeks. In her situation, she got off the pill, her husband sneezed at her and BOOM, knocked up. Ok, not really, but she did get pregnant almost immediately. I soon learned, that she is the exception and definitely not the rule.

With my Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, I knew that it was going to be an uphill battle. Timing was a challenge along with there was no guarantee that I’d even ovulate. My Primary Care Provider (PCP) had a plan of attack for this using her methodology. She said that we needed to get my thyroid and insulin levels in check despite the fact that they were on the upper tip of normal range. I had to stop taking my antidepressant which made me an emotional wreck. This definitely didn’t help with the added stress of getting pregnant.

First month - Negative

Second month - Negative

Third month - Negative

After the third month, my PCP said that as I approach months 4-5 if I don’t get pregnant I may have to explore adding fertility medication to increase the chances of ovulating. I know that other doctors have a different approach when it comes to pregnancy and infertility but this was my experience. My doctor was going to get me pregnant.

Fourth month - Negative

I scheduled an appointment with an OBGYN to start the conversation of starting medication. Prior to the appointment, I had to get my blood drawn. I’m now sitting in the stark white patient room waiting to be seen. Then the Nurse Practitioner comes in and says “Well, I’m sure glad to see you today.” Well, that’s a nice way to start a doctor’s appointment.

She then asks me why I’m there to see her and I explain my months of trying to get pregnant. Then she hits me with the news I did not expect to hear.

“You’re pregnant.”

Even Super Woman Needs a Break

2020 has been a wild one so far. Anything that was considered normal is anything but. Not a fan of change? Yeah, buck up buttercup 2020 is all about CHANGE.

While I was on medical leave in early 2020, the beginning of Covid-19 was taking over China and moving to other countries. As a person in the financial industry, the stock markets took a hit, nearing recession levels. There was just so much uncertainty but soon enough, the words “Social Distancing” became the new buzz word. 6 feet apart, wash your hands, sanitize all of the things, and wear a face covering. And for the love of everything holy and sacred, staying the f*ck home.

I transitioned to working remotely at home to be socially distant and caring for my almost 4 year old twins. They went to preschool twice a week and my parents the rest of the week. However, my parents are elderly with health concerns. So as much as it pained me (and mostly them), we chose to keep the twins away from them for almost 6 weeks, during that time my husband was also home as he was furloughed. When he went back to work, his schedule changed so he was not able to take the twins to school in the mornings. Instead, I became the Queen of Multi-Tasking, Super Mom, or better yet Super Woman.

Being all of those things is freaking hard. Maintaining the household, increased workload at the day job, still maintaining my skincare business, training a new puppy, caring for the kiddos all while trying to work out and eat healthily. Yikes, when you put it in writing, that’s f*cking CRAZY. I did it because I had to. There was no other choice.

Fast forward to several months into the pandemic, people (including myself) were getting stir crazy. Cities were starting to open back up. Businesses could begin operating again albeit follow all CDC and social distancing guidelines. Some people went off the deep end and cause more spikes in positive cases. I was not one of those peeps. I was feeling the effects of being a “stay at home, work from home, remote working, and journey to wellness” woman. I broke. I need a break.

What does a break look like? Getting the heck out of Dodge. I was craving girl time with some of my close friends who live a few hours away. Was it risky? Probably, but we’re all smart women so face coverings, hand washing, and what not will occur. FaceTiming and phone calls can only go so far. Human interaction is what I needed. So I told my husband that I wanted to do this and he was 100% on board with this.

Here’s the thing - it’s okay to be selfish and honor what you’re needing. Maybe it’s a walk or a workout in, a night of quiet, maybe a bottle of wine and a bubble bath, a nice long drive, or getting out of town. Or all of the above, I’m not judging. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something for YOU. Many of us give and give because that’s part of who we are. It’s healthy to go do something that will recharge your soul and give you a little more go go power to continue on being the badass woman you are.

In fact, it’s not selfish at all. It’s a part of who you are and you are beautiful. So you do you and give yourself the much needed breather you deserve.

I've got what on my ovaries?!

**Note, I’m not a doctor. I don’t play one on TikTok, IG, or FB. This is my personal opinion yo.**

I was told in my mid-20s that I had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. Dafuq…???

Evidently, I’ve got all of these tiny itty bitty cysts all over my ovaries. While not as scary as it sounds, it totally wreaks havoc on your attempts to get pregnant. It’s a real bitch because sometimes it prevented me from ovulating. You know, that’s 50% of the process of GETTING PREGNANT! That time of the month, yeah that was all messed up too.

On top of that, it caused my skin to be a hot mess because of the increased (male) androgen hormones. (Thank you Rodan + Fields Unblemish for clearing my acne all up). Oh and the extra peach fuzz on my face. Helllooooo waxing!

Can it be cured? Not from what Dr. Google says but it can be managed. Losing weight. But here’s the kicker, there’s also extra insulin being pumped through your body. Which makes it HARD to lose weight.

Is it a form of infertility? I guess so. And if you do get pregnant, there are added potential risks to an already scary process. Premature birth or death, gestational diabetes or type 2 after the fact, sleep issues, depression and anxiety.

Stick a fork in me, I’m done.

But having a healthy and easy pregnancy is possible. Unfortunately, my journey to motherhood was a hard found battle but I came out the other side..

More to come.